Generator Rex Season 4
by vetty123
Summary: The Second Nanite Event has effectively reprogrammed every nanite on the planet, EVOs have all been eliminated, and Rex can finally have a happily ever after with Circe and the gang, right? RIGHT? But Van Kleiss is back with a vengeance, and has his own plans. Throw in an amnesiac with a familiar backstory and a Hunter with a grudge, and you've got...Generator Rex Season 4! R&R!
1. Smiles in the Dark

[Author's Note – This story is my first attempt at a long story, so pardon any plot bungles I make. Please review and let me know what you think! Also (this is important) **this story is being moved from my Wattpad account**,** AWannabeWrit-ah**. I'm working on moving it from one site to the other, so please don't call plagiarism on me! I'm just shifting sites! Nothing suspicious here! And now, the introduction…]

Disclaimer: I own none of the following characters: they're all from Man of Action's drawing board. The plot line (and one or two OC's) is mine, however. This is, incidentally, the only disclaimer I will be writing for this entire story. Unless I think of a funny one.

* * *

_Greenville, Ohio  
__Three days after the New Event_

The computer screen hummed quietly as figures, charts and numbers flickered on and off the screen. The bleary-eyed man sitting at the keyboard worked feverishly, running his hands through his tangled black hair to keep it out of his eyes. His fingers flew across the keys as though he were playing the piano, and his pupils dilated and expanded as he scanned each exhaustive page of data. Then, groaning, he straightened his limbs and rose, moving to the center of the room.

He had worked non-stop for the past 72 hours, trying to salvage the empire that he had built and ruled so long ago. But more importantly, he worked to save his life, tightening screws and inserting wires as he walked. He could already feel his limbs being drained of their power as the nanites that gave him strength were slowly exhausted and disposed of.

Ever since his "travel agent", as he snidely called her, had brought him on this unrequested excursion to limbo, he had been trying to undo what that annoying teenager, Rex, had done. His knuckles whitened around the mallet he was holding. Did that impertinent brat have a clue of the damage he had caused, of the hopes that he had so callously dashed? _Soon_, Van Kleiss thought to himself. _Soon, he would fix what had been broken, and the world would be his for the taking once more_.

After Breach had taken him through her portal, he had barely enough nanites in his body left to reconstruct his ruined arm, and after he'd felt Rex's global interference he'd had to hack a stolen Providence earpiece to find out what was going on. He could hear partying in that base of theirs as they raucously celebrated the deactivation of all nanites on the earth, which would indubitably lead to the eventual death of one Van Kleiss. _But this old dog has some new tricks up his sleeve_, Kleiss sniggered to himself. Then he mentally slapped himself._ Talking to myself, am I now? The exhaustion must be getting to me._ This only reinforced his determination to finish his job and repair the wreck that was his life. It was a miserable life, though, wasn't it? Chased through millennia by a plasmoid tachyon field that had later turned out to be Breach, kept as a captive scientist by a crazy dictator who wanted to rule the universe, cut off from his life-sustaining nanites by the fabric of time-space, trapped in the middle of (literally) nowhere, the list went on, and on, and on, and on, and…

The man's head slowly drooped forward on his neck as his limbs relaxed, floating away on a tranquil sea of silence…

The door behind him creaked open slowly, swinging awry on its hinges. Van Kleiss started, realizing with a start how close he had been to falling asleep. That would be unacceptable. He turned around to see who had entered, and found nobody standing in the doorway. Ever since he had accosted the dilapidated schoolhouse as his temporary base, he had been more and more intrigued by the apparently random items scattered through the building. A room full of pink stuffed bunnies, a cafeteria infested with giant Evo spiders, and now doors that swung open by themselves.

_The floor must be uneven_, he thought, returning to his work, completely missing the mechanical blue wolf who had been standing at his shoulder for some time now.

* * *

Biowulf stood there awhile, musing to himself. Master had been working himself into the ground lately, and the loyal henchman pondered the plus points of simply knocking Van Kleiss out right now and claiming later that he must have fainted from exhaustion. Biowulf thought about it, and then dismissed the idea. It wouldn't do for Master to fall asleep here – wherever here was.

Van Kleiss' right-hand man had very mixed feelings regarding their little jaunt to Breach's private chunk of insanity, and inwardly wondered if he should have stayed behind to be cured by Rex. Biowulf had no memory of his life before the Event, and had always wracked his mind for memories – was he an orphan? Were his parents still alive? What was his real name? But his crooked brain gave no new memories, only old ones of a young freak running through a dark city, hiding in alleys, spat at by complete strangers until a man with a golden hand appeared to save him.

Biowulf rationalized to himself – even if he was cured, the justice system wasn't going to be so lenient as to simply give him a free pass from jail for the numerous crimes against humanity he had performed in his time as a rogue Evo. Why, they would lock him up and throw the keys down the nearest geothermal vent if he so much as poked his nose 'round the corner. _Still_, that insidious, traitorous voice in the depths of his mind said, _that Rex kid is a big softie – and you did help him out in that fiasco in the Bug Jar. Maybe if you talked to him, something could be done?_ _Perhaps he might even_ – No. This line of thinking was too cowardly to be considered. Biowulf immediately stopped thinking about anything regarding seditious (as he viewed it) actions and shifted his mind from the disturbing topic of changing sides.

Unfortunately, this broke his concentration, and the accursed questions continued to pour in – Had he played any sports? Did he have _siblings_? The questions accumulated, pounding at his brain cells, rising in his mind like a tidal wave, nearly choking him with the overwhelming thought of what might have been, until he brutally stuffed them into a box in the back of his mind. A handy trick he had picked up along the years – your mind won't survive very long if you let it run wild with its thoughts. But, speaking of his thoughts – Biowulf snapped back to attention and decided to cough softly.

Biowulf's mouth, which had not been designed for coughing softly, decided to let out a strident bark that made the wolf-man wince.

Van Kleiss' head snapped up when he heard the noise, his red-rimmed eyes scanning the room until he noticed Biowulf standing directly behind him. He gave a slight start, and mentally made a note to commend the wolf later for his impressive stealth skills.

"Ah, Biowulf. You wish to speak to me?"

Biowulf nodded. "Skalamander woke up around an hour ago, and is brawling with that…_girl_ again. I came to ask you if should intervene on behalf of either of them."

Van Kleiss sighed as he knuckled his eyes wearily. When they had arrived at Greenville, Breach had taken off to "go to where the stillness is", whatever that meant. He assumed that it was Breach-speak for needing to do some soul-searching about the opportunity for being cured that had just slipped by the Pack. After Kleiss had found some monitors and stone-age modems and Biowulf had located the school computer lab, the henchman had worked to get an operating base running, but Van Kleiss had to finish his project first before he could consider more mundane tasks.

They were both working diligently when they were rudely interrupted by a giant purple…thing with an old young girl's face (if that makes any sense at all) that had barreled through the door, demanding to know whether they were Breach's new "favorites". After Kleiss had tried unsuccessfully to drain her of her nanites (she somehow detached the drained limb from her body and grew another one), Skalamander had appeared and knocked her back out the door, and since then the two had been going at each other hammer and tongs intermittently.

"I cannot have any more interruptions, Biowulf. The project at hand requires my utmost attention, and a single slip-up could result in the end of the Evo race."

Biowulf nodded. He would see to it that all remained calm outside. As he left, Van Kleiss turned back to his jumbled workbench, already running calculations in his head. Should he put the transponder at the head of the circuit, or should it go in after the nanite micro-analyzer? He began fiddling with the chips once more, trying different arrangements and running test sequences in his head, seeing which ones would work.

The jumbled mass of wires and transmitters slowly began to come together and started to form the rough outline of the diagrams sketched on the makeshift blueprints he had hastily drawn up. After another hour of tinkering and testing, he was sure he had perfected the design. Soon, he could start his machine up, and then he could ensure his continued existence.

Van Kleiss smiled in the dark.

xxXxx

* * *

A/N – There it is, the first chappie! Please review! Flames are welcome (critical analysis of my own text is always difficult for me, so any comments would be wonderful)! One issue I'm struggling with: do you think my chapters should be longer? What's the ideal length? Expect the next update before Halloween – sorry, I'm a slow writer.


	2. Remembering Well

A/N - Another update! Finally! The length of these chapters will be variable, by the way, but I'm trying to keep to an average of around 1700 words. If you see any grammar errors, any at all, just message me or comment below (I'm a perfectionist, and I _must_ have this story done perfectly! Or at least mediocrely, if that's a word…)

**Important Plot Note**: I've made a slight alteration to the canon Generator Rex Universe. In Enemies Mine, the last episode featuring Gatlocke, Hunter, No-Face and Valve, they were all trapped inside a Providence base by a force field. However, at the very end of Endgame (lol), when Rex is curing the world, No-Face is seen standing outside, apparently freed, moments before being cured. This makes no sense to me, and so in my story, he was imprisoned at the time of the Second Nanite Event.

* * *

_Meanwhile…  
__Providence Holding Cell 7_

The man sat hunched on the bench, a hulking shadow in the checkered light filtering through the iron bars. He sat completely still, but for his eyes, which flickered all over the dimly lit hallway, waiting. The sounds of the celebration above trickled into his cell, and he sank into a state of deep concentration trying to distinguish separate conversations from the hubbub he could hear. This was pastime of his – just because you were caught doesn't mean you could afford to slack off. His mind slowly fell into a lull, and he thought back over the events of the past few days.

_His block mates were going stir-crazy. The kook who called himself "The Biker" had taken to throwing himself at the bars every five minutes, yelling that "the Biker never quits!", while the one with no-face was shouting through his nanites that he would kill everyone once he got out. Only Gatlocke seemed to be normal – of course, _he_ was playing a game of tic-tac-toe with himself and dancing for joy every time he won. In short, it was another normal day with the guys in Cell Block 7._

_Suddenly, a wave of blue light raced down the hall and washed over the entire block. He immediately went into high-alert mode – he scanned his body for any injuries or infections, then studied his surroundings. Normal, normal, everything was – _Thud_. A thumping noise brought the big man down to a crouch as he examined the vicinity from which the noise had come. There was a black mass lying on the floor in No-Face's cell, and No-Face himself was nowhere to be seen._

That was when they'd heard the news – EVOs all over the planet were cured, and their cell-mates were moving out. With the cessation of hostilities and the need to be on perpetual defense gone, the justice system had finally gotten itself moving, and was currently busy exonerating cured EVOs who had had their memories wiped when they were "turned". No-Face had got off scot-free, and Valve was serving another 3 years in a government slammer.

No-Face came to visit sometimes – the Providence shrink said that familiar faces could jog his memory, which seemed to be blanked out. All the man had remembered was his name, Evan, and the memory of great, crushing pain and hopelessness. _Sucker probably made that up to buy sympathy so he'd get off_, the cynic on the bench thought privately.

Luckily, he probably wouldn't need to fake amnesia to get out of prison. He had a plan to get himself out of here, and while it had more holes in it than a sieve, he was counting on the guards being rather drunk on the success of finally defeating all EVOs, except one, of course. If his partner came through, they could be free by nightfall.

Right now, though, it was all the man could do to hold himself still. Just thinking about how close he was to achieving his final goal of eradicating the EVO disease from the planet made his fingers itch, and his hand open and closed convulsively. He wished he had a gun, or a chainsaw, or a baseball bat, or _something_ to take down that nuisance, Rex, who appeared to be the last EVO left on earth. With that, his mission would be accomplished, and he would have finally eradicated the damnable disease that had taken his wife from him.

_His wife…_

* * *

Hunter drifted off into a fog of memories, thinking back to the days when he had happiness and a home. He recalled how she would laugh when something amused her, or sing when she did the dishes, and hum _Beethoven's Ninth_ while she made the coffee.

He remembered how she would sashay through the house, dusting and wiping every surface when one of her intractable cleaning moods came upon her. How she would kiss him goodbye every morning on his way to work. How her eyes would light up when she saw the bouquet of flowers that he would pick up on his way back from the office. How she smiled whenever she saw him struggling to sign a document, his hammy fingers wielding the pen clumsily.

He also remembered her writhing on the floor one morning, screaming unintelligibly as her eyes tinged themselves yellow, her fingers sharpened into claws and tentacles began bursting out of her body, waving wildly as Hunter watched in horror. He remembered stumbling down the stairs at full tilt, incoherently screaming into his phone over the cacophony of screams coming from upstairs.

He remembered hearing the sirens blare through the night as he stood on his lawn, helplessly watching as his house collapsed, revealing the…thing…inside. He remembered the copters flying past what was left of his house, a young teen battling an unrecognizable monster, a pair of katanas slicing through mutated flesh, an inhuman shriek cleaving the very air.

A single phrase had danced through his head, reverberating in his ears for hours after the mess had been dragged away. The syllables hovered before his eyes, taunting his own impotence.

_Dangerous incurable_.

He remembered sitting in what was left of his kitchen, after they'd all gone. He remembered calling a funeral home, only to find that EVOs were not allowed to be buried alongside humans, for fear of causing trouble with the families of other deceased. He remembered sifting through the debris in a stupor, falling to his knees in the wreckage, heedless of the countless jagged edges digging into his skin.

He remembered veins throbbing in his forehead as his rage boiled itself, distilling into a pure hatred for EVO-kind. He decided there, in the rubble of his former home, that he would personally avenge his wife, and crush the infection that had taken her from him. His knuckles went white as his fists clenched, as he swore his oath to the ruins of his former life. Quietly at first, then louder and louder, until finally he was screaming his challenge at the peaceful moon, resonating through his old house – what was left of his old life.

Hunter remembered all this.

And remembered it well.

* * *

The sound of approaching footsteps and a sharp click as the light switch was thrown brought him out of his reverie. Two chattering Providence guards turned the corner talking animatedly and Cain looked at Gatlocke out of the side of his eye, nodding slightly.

Gatlocke, who had been disturbed from adjusting his new arm (perfectly normal, no weapons whatsoever) by the sound as well, looked up. He stared back confusedly at Hunter for a moment, and then widened his eyes as realization struck him, smirking back across the hall at his fellow prisoner. He whispered,

"Time to implement our nefarious scheme, eh? Ooh, I know, let's code name this plan Operation Side-Spot, shall we? No, that's stupid, how about Break-"

Hunter cut his makeshift partner off with a sign towards the Providence guards, who were approaching slowly, absorbed in their discussion of whether or not White Knight would emerge from his nanite-free fortress, now that there was no risk of infection. They seemed to be in a jovial mood, bantering back and forth freely.

Hunter watched with bated breath as the two guards walked by his cell, praying inside that Gatlocke wouldn't forget his role in this. As the guards walked by Gatlocke's cell –

"Excuse me, gentlemen! Could I have a moment of your time?"

Hunter sighed and ran a hand over his forehead. _This was not part of the plan_.

The grunts paused, momentarily taken aback, then one of them asked, "Whaddaya want in there?"

"Ah, yes, umm….." Gatlocke looked around, and for a moment Hunter was positive that Gatlocke had no clue what he was doing. As usual.

"Oh, I remember now!" Gatlocke said with a bright smile on his face, and Hunter actually dared to hope that Gatlocke was going to pull through on this. "My stomach hurts. Bad. And….I think I need to see a doctor."

Hunter Cain nearly groaned out loud. _If those Providence grunts buy that excuse, we _deserve_ to break out for being smarter than those morons. Why can't anything be easy in my life?_

He decided to help the process along. "Oh yeah. Puking all over the place. Sure hope it's not contagious or something. Could be that nasty bug floating around." He took a gamble on the fact that these two looked dumb and, for all he knew, there might really be a 'nasty bug' hanging around somewhere outside if you looked hard enough. Of course, if the guards had more brain cells than your average brick, they'd realize that Hunter was locked up in jail, and couldn't possibly know whether or not there was a bug "floating around".

"Well, if you're really sick…" one of them said, while the other appeared to be thinking over it. Then the silent one nodded, and they both turned to face the prisoners. "Okay, Mr. Sicky, looks like you've got an appointment with the doctor." One of them approached the panel next to Gatlocke's cell (which incidentally was the master panel for the entire cell block). He punched in the code, rather carelessly leaving the keypad exposed to sight: something completely against protocol, and an occurrence that would most certainly not have happened on any other day.

Once Gatlocke's door had been opened, Gatlocke actually did something right – he went into a mock fit, thrashing his limbs rather impressively, scaring the guards out of the cell and into slamming the door shut. They looked at each other once more, and moved at a rather rapid clip out of the hall, presumably to find this "doctor" they'd spoke of.

Once the Two Idiots had left the cell block, Hunter smiled. His plan was falling into place, and he'd got what he needed.

xxXxx

* * *

A/N - What's happening? Do you like my story? Love it? Loathe it? Whatever it is, just let me know real quick down below, will you? I've even composed a couplet for you! I'll start responding to reviewers in my next post, I guess.

_I sit upon this comfy chair,  
__And see no comments anywhere.  
__My friend, good friend, perhaps could you,  
__Leave a note, or three, or two?_

A work of art! And now you HAVE to comment! *maniacal evil cackle fading off into background*. Actually, I'm not mad – although I will be by the time I finish studying for the SAT. Anyway, cheers, all! BTW, don't hold your breath about the third chapter - it could take a while.


	3. Insidious Whisperings

_Meanwhile,  
__Providence cafeteria_

The Providence cafeteria was overflowing with party balloons and streamers, with multi-colored confetti streaming from the ceiling and a rogue monkey tossing pizza slices at unsuspecting Providence grunts. The chatter was nearly deafening, rising in a crescendo through the halls that had seen so much suffering and now, at last, a bit of joy.

The speakers for the intercom and alarm systems had been re-wired to a DJ desk, and the party was in full swing. In the center of all the celebration was Rex, the man of the hour – no, the man of the century. Nobody in the room doubted that the kid's name would go down in history with the greats, those who stood eye to eye with the darkness and refused to blink – Winston Churchill, Leonidas I, Abraham Lincoln: and now, Rex Salazar.

After all, he had single-handedly ended one of the greatest plagues that humanity had ever known, _and _had turned down the offer to become a god; not to mention the fact that he was also a pretty fun kid, always good for a free soda or two at the Providence cafeteria vending machines. So it's no wonder that all the scientists and soldiers of Providence insisted on giving the boy a prolonged standing ovation to top off the festivities for the day, with even White Knight – who had wasted no time in reclaiming his office and video screens – giving a hand.

The party was on, and had been on ever since Captain Calan had caught the Consortium cowering in an underground bunker originally designed for nuclear fallout. Their powers had been completely removed, and they were now a disgruntled group of rich people who had all their assets frozen indefinitely.

As Calan had remarked later to his team, "Where did they think they would hide? I mean, Rex's wave reached all the way to the other end of the globe, for pity's sake, an' they thought a mile or two of rock could keep them safe? Funny thing, though. When we caught 'em, they came almost quietly. We wondered why, until we looked under the table and saw Black Knight lying there with two blacked eyes, four teeth knocked out, two broken ribs and seven other assorted broken bones around her body. Seeing that made my day, it did."

He snorted. "Hell, it made my decade."

* * *

Familiar faces were everywhere. Noah, as an honorary Providence agent, was in a corner taking goofy pictures of Rex posing with Holiday and Six, who looked like he'd rather be eating broken glass than be standing there. Agent Kenwyn Jones walked by talking animatedly with Walter (aka Squid) with Tuck following, one arm draped over Cricket's shoulders.

Sure, Van Kleiss had kept his powers and was still out there, but why waste time worrying about him when the world had just turned right side up, after having been upside down for six terrible years? _But who cares? _That was the dominant mood in the room, and there were only a few serious people thinking of the future.

One of these people, of course, was Agent Six. He was worrying about the future. _Look at these people. Sure, they're happy now, but soon they'll all be out of a job, and then – what?_ Truth be told, Agent Six wasn't sure he would know what he'd do with himself if, no, when Providence disbanded.

He had briefly toyed with returning to being a hitman and taking money for kills, but had discarded the idea just as quickly. His prickly new morals wouldn't allow him to "run with the old gang" and take up assassination contracts like he used to in a past life.

Also, he privately wondered what White would do after this – he was still the only nanite-free human on the planet, but that was pretty meaningless now that everyone's nanites had been deactivated permanently. What would Rex do, as well? _Once the original hype and drama fades away, the kid'll become a freak show again; him and the monkey he didn't cure for whatever reason._

Six was nudged out of his grim thoughts by Dr. Holiday, who had bumped into him as she reached over for a slice of Beverly's cake, which had proved to be much more edible than her older sister's failed attempts. Six eyed the Doctor discreetly through the edge of his sunglasses, secure in the knowledge that his eyes were hidden by his shades.

Normally, the ninja was scrupulously dedicated to the task at hand, and generally refused point-blank to allow himself to be distracted by the Doctor. However, it had struck him recently that there _was_ no job at hand, leaving him free to indulge in his infatuation with the good Doctor.

Six stopped his train of thought. No, scratch that – infatuation was a bit too strong, not to mention that the term was a bit demeaning when applied to the sixth most dangerous man on the planet.

_I've trained by myself for years to attain a level of perfection in combat that this world has never seen before! I've fought Evos the size of city blocks! I could disable every Providence agent –yes, even Rex – in this room with a blindfold on and one hand behind my back! I do not get _infatuated_ with people!_

His ego suitably re-inflated, Six returned to musing upon the nature of his relationship with Holiday for a few minutes. _Attraction. That's it. Mild attraction. That's all it is_. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to his surroundings, allowing to noise to swirl over him.

"Quite a party, don't you think so?"

Six blinked, not that she could see it. Holiday was looking at him expectantly, with a faint pink tinge to her cheeks and a smile on her face, clearly waiting for an answer. He decided to give a stock answer. "Absolutely", he replied, with a straight face.

Holiday looked sideways at the man standing next to him. She suspected that his mind was wandering elsewhere, although his face could have been chiseled in granite, it was so unmoving. Nonetheless, she prided herself on being able to read the man's features after such a long association, and she could – sort of – tell that he was distracted. She shrugged, and allowed her own mind roam free while she chewed her sister's cake.

She absent-mindedly watched Noah wrestle Rex into a headlock so Bobo could snap a picture of the pair, and smiled. She was going to miss this, she knew, and the pain of the impending loss was already poking at her insides. The last six years of her life had been filled with painful events, and yet, somehow, she felt rather sad that the ride was coming to an end. Sure, she was glad that the Evo threat had been neutralized once and for all, but…she wished that the group, no, the _family,_ that had been built from this adversity could stick together, but she knew it couldn't be.

Imagining a day with no Rex breaking out of Providence, with no Bobo dumping hairs into her coffee, with no White snapping out orders busily, with no Six following her around…_Stop it_, she ordered herself. There was no point in making herself miserable when everyone around her was so happy.

To cheer herself up, she decided to talk to Six, who, for some unfathomable reason, never failed to make herself feel better. She needed to sort out her feelings for him – just one more thing to do in her new life as a regular researcher. Six and her had gone out for dinner once, she knew, but nothing serious came out of it, mainly due to the fact that Providence base had fallen shortly after that and things had gotten very busy.

She supposed that ever since that blasted _snake_, Scarecrow had – had taken _advantage_ of her feelings for Six, she was wary of any sort of relationship with the man. She had already broken her heart and wound up crying once, thank you very much, and she'd rather not go through the experience again.

Her insidious mind kept whispering, though. _Think of a day without Six. Without seeing that green suit, or those black shades or those _– She wrenched her mind from such avenues of thought. She blushed furiously and instantly started talking to Six, in an attempt to shut her treacherous mind up.

"Quite the party, eh?"

Six, disturbed by his earlier lapse in concentration, responded almost immediately, and in typical Six fashion.

"Yes."

Holiday glanced askance at him, and the ninja's mind went into overdrive. What did that look mean? He frantically looked through his mental database of Holiday's looks (which was embarrassingly extensive, he realized now) and eventually decided that the look was either one of disappointment or curiosity. _Disappointment? Why would she be disappointed? Maybe I should have said more about the room, like how I love the pizza slices stuck to the computer screens, and the way the monkey is throwing nachos about like confetti_. After a bit more mental turmoil, Six decided to just slide away and…check on Caesar. Yes, that's right, he's going to check on Caesar, and regrettably cannot stay here any longer. Perfect.

And with that, the highly-trained ninja quietly skulked his way over to the door, careful to avoid Holiday's gaze. Luckily for him, her narrowed eyes were locked on her sister, watching like a hawk as Beverly mingled with the crowd, making sure that nobody acted too freely with her.

"Six, wanna come over and see if you can toss this piece of cake into Calan's backpack from the other end of the room?"

Six glanced briefly at Rex, who was currently slung between two scientists and appeared to be drunk on attention. That, or the grape juice Six could see staining the front of his shirt. Six mused over the question for about a tenth of a second, then pointed to the far corner of the room.

"Why is Noah trying to dance on that table in his underwear?"

Rex nearly snapped his spine turning around just in time to see Noah (fully clothed, of course) close his phone, having finished exchanging study plans with Claire. He had, after all, missed the past week or so of school, what with the emergencies at Providence and the current celebration, and needed to get back in the game if he was going to have a shot at that scholarship. He looked back at Rex quizzically, then checked a mirror to see if something was on his face.

Rex turned back around just as quickly, only to catch a glimpse of Six walking away as the pneumatic door closed behind him with a hiss.

* * *

Six breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the room, and decided to go to the coffee room instead of César's for a quick pick-me-up. He'd cut through the cell blocks on his way there.

It would get him there quicker.

xxXxx

* * *

A/N – So, sorry about the long delay with the updates: however, two weeks is looking like the gap between each update. Of course, if I get a day off of college I'll probably put one up, and now that the SAT's are done, I should have more free time. Anyway, thanks for sticking with this story! As a first-time author, I've only recently discovered how much a single review means – but I'm not kidding, if you review, you'll make my day!

**YellowAngela**: My first reviewer! (Nice profile pic). Actually, the story never explicitly mentions how Hunter's wife dies – all we hear is _his wife turned three months ago_. That's it. I assumed she became incurable and neutralized for two reasons: One, if she was incurable it would partially explain why Hunter hates Rex so much (false hope, etc.). Two, I needed Hunter to be a villain, and if his wife was still alive to be cured by the New Event, he would probably reform. Ergo, wife needed to die.

**FloatingPizza**: Thanks! I like that you appreciate the sympathetic Hunter slant here: I've always loved dark, brooding figures on paths of vengeance. A classic example is Scar from Fullmetal Alchemist.

**YourWorstNitmare**: Thanks for the detailed review! I didn't think that my flashbacks made Hunter seem insane, although I suppose that's your opinion. Also, his backstory was clichéd mainly because I didn't want to spend _too_ much time on the guy – while I love his character, I'm trying to keep this story as close to canon as possible, and anything more complicated than _Providence killed my incurable Evo wife_ would certainly come across as excessive. What, that story's not twisted enough for you? But thanks for the input.

And now, a poem.

_Of all cartoonists on this earth,  
__Man of Action is the first.  
__But why cannot that hopeless bore,  
__Create for me a Season Four?_


	4. Breakout

A/N: Sorry the chapter's so short. It's just a quick summary of Hunter's escape.

* * *

_A few minutes earlier,  
__Providence Holding Cell 7_

If Hunter had had any hair on his smooth-shaven head, he would definitely be tearing it out. As things stood, he would have cheerily settled for the next best thing: ripping out his block mate's hair. Unfortunately, he was currently unable to satiate either of his bloodthirsty urges, and so he had to resort to menacing whispers.

"What do you mean, you can't open the door? I just told you the key, so punch it in!"

"But I can't see the keypad! What happens if I punch in a wrong code?"

"If you do that, an alarm trips, the guards come running, the escape attempt is foiled and we get to rot in this paradise until a court decides to sentence us to life in prison with no parole on the charges of attempted murder and vandalism, so get moving and don't screw up!"

"You take things too seriously, has anyone ever told you that? Lighten up! Tell you what, –"

"No, _I'll_ tell _you_ what – open the door now!"

"Don't you think we should take some time to savor this moment? You know, taste the impending freedom, glory in the approaching liberty, and luxuriate in the –"

"If you don't type the code in soon, there will be no 'impending freedom', there'll be 'impending visit to maximum security cells!' with an approaching firing squad to glory in, so hurry _up_!" Hunter was getting on edge.

"But don't you feel the electricity in the air? This is a big moment! Why, it could be –"

Hunter nearly put his head between his hands and wept. He pulled himself together only by reminding himself of how close to liberty they already were, and how he would not ruin this plan by losing his temper. After all, it was pretty much a stroke of genius getting this fool to distract the guards so he (Hunter) could surreptitiously spy the code out, but in fairness the guards were absolute blockheads. Now all he had to do was get his "partner" (Gatlocke had insisted upon the title. Well, actually he had wanted to be called "Super-Exalted Kicker of Side", but he'd settled for "partner" after some discussion) to punch in the accursed code.

"Two…eight…five…is the seven on the left side or the right side of the keypad?"

"Left side."

"My left or your left? Oh well, here goes nothing…"

"No, no! That's the right! The other side! The _other_ _side_!" Hunter hissed in a mild panic.

"Oh, you don't say? Well then, here we go…"

Gatlocke punched the final number in at last, and all the cell doors in the block swung open noisily. Cain immediately stepped out of his cell – free at last. He moved swiftly to the door and stood quietly by the side, ready to disable anyone who might have heard the noise and come in.

When no one came running, he let his breath out a bit. _Maybe we might actually get out of this place undetected if everyone stays partying and the guards keep slacking off. Now we'd best get out of here before this Doctor comes a-calling and finds her patients have vanished_.

The first order of business, of course, was to grab some weapons. The duo slunk towards the prison lockup, padding silently along the brightly lit corridors. When they arrived, Hunter typed in the access code, smiling to himself when the door swung open.

* * *

The prison lockup: home to all the goodies Hunter had had on him when he was caught, as well as several left over from previous sojourners in the cells. The place was loaded with grenades, flash bombs, ammunition, exploding shells and even a few packages of C4. Just the equipment a bunch of escaping prisoners needed.

He quickly grabbed his cannon, picking up the bullets as Gatlocke darted to his confiscated prosthetic arm – complete with laser beams and sliding blades. Hunter also took his bag of surprises, as well as several Providence rifles lying in the lockup. It was a lot easier to sweet talk a guard into getting out of the way if you had a rifle jammed under his chin and a hulking, 16mm gun slung across your back.

_Of course_, Hunter thought to himself as Gatlocke fenced with his shadow, _it rather detracts from a person's fearsome image when your partner is a gibbering idiot._ Hunter smirked to himself as he watched Gatlocke trip over his flowing cape. _Now we just need to get out of this hell hole._ With that thought in mind, Hunter walked towards the nearest port.

He listened at the door for a good thirty seconds, focusing on any vibrations coming through the metal. Once he was certain that there were no footsteps or irregular blur of conversation, he entered the code. Cannon at the ready, he opened the door and stepped through with Gatlocke right behind him…

xxXxx

* * *

**A/N** \- Again, I'm sorry for the small update, but this chapter was short and necessary, so I decided to post it immediately after my other one. Next time: back to Agent Six in the field, and some of our favorite crazy scientists (Yes, that's plural. Guess who)! Expect my next chapter sometime by the next weekend. Have a nice day!

**theWriterunknown**: Thanks! I've always fancied myself an amateur poet, and these short ones are easy to write. Your encouragement is appreciated.

**FloatingPizza**: It's kind of a personal thing: I'm trying to at least mention every character that the story mentioned: the Consortium (check), Hong Kong Evo (watch this space), Rombauer and Lanski (no luck yet), NoFace (on the way), etc. But I'm a big fan of Captain Calan's character as well! The whole double-crossing, loyal to the end, snidely sarcastic model – I love it.

And now for the poem (getting to be a habit, this.)

_There once was a Hunter named Cain,  
__Who walked and talked a big game.  
__Because he was mad,  
__And certainly bad,  
__He often is labeled insane_


	5. Collision Course

A/N: Again, sorry about the gap: but, when all's said and done, being in college is a real drag. The good news is I got my SAT back and, while I'm not too happy about it, it should be able to get me into a half-decent college. Anyway, boring stuff about my life aside – please enjoy the story! This chapter's more light-hearted than the preceding ones (in my opinion, anyway).

* * *

_Some minutes ago,  
__Corridor 3, Block 7_

Six walked silently through the empty halls, absent-mindedly putting one foot in front of the other. _Maybe I should have stayed behind and talked with her? What if she thinks I hate her company now? What if she stops talking to me?_

Six's rational mind told him that there was no earthly way such a small thing could ruin their relationship. Still, he couldn't help worrying about it. _Why are the halls so empty? Where _is_ everyone? Where's the emergency? The flashing red siren? The panicked cries for help from some grunt who's tangling with an Evo? _

As he walked through the corridors, which remained stolidly silent, his mind kept rolling around in circles – The fighting was over, the world was saved, so he'd completed his mission and finished the war. However, _Providence_ was over too, so everyone would break off into the separate lives. Everyone included Holiday. Which meant, of course, that Six wouldn't see her again, which upset him. Of course, the fighting was over, the world was saved, so he'd completed his mission…

He walked past the door César's lab. Normally Six tried to avoid visiting Rex's crazy brother, but he really needed a distraction before his own brain killed any chance of him working in the same room as Dr. Holiday while remaining sane. Realizing Dr César was the best distraction in Providence, he stopped, retraced his steps back and opened the portal. Only when the doors were actually in the physical process of swinging open did the Agent remember why he generally avoided visiting César.

The man was insane.

* * *

As Six had come to realize, the scene inside César's lab was not exactly conducive to peace of mind. He realized this belatedly, when a glass cylinder filled with some unidentifiable clear liquid flew straight at his head. Six dodged it narrowly and watched the jar break onto the wall behind him. He raised an eyebrow as it began to smoke and turn the metal plates black, then swiveled and looked inside the room.

César had recently decided that he needed a collaborator to help him with his crazy experiments. Peter Meechum was perfectly willing to help with the technical aspects of César's work, but he wanted to spend time with his daughter and also patently refused to be César's guinea pig. The other Providence techies all just kind of shrugged and mumbled stuff like _Did you see that giant squid Evo?_ to each other behind their hands.

César had naturally looked to Holiday then, but due to her already gargantuan task of watching Rex all the time, she had declined, claiming fatigue and stress (Six personally thought that she simply had an intelligent regard for her own mental health). She had, however, given César a couple of her contacts in the upper echelons of the scientific community and told him to check with them.

César had originally wanted to hire Pete Volkov, and had contacted the man with the intention of recruiting him for science. Volkov, however, had been peculiarly unenthusiastic about the prospect (perhaps he'd been in communication with some of Providence's scientists). He politely declined César's request, saying that he had almost died in orbit too many times for him to want to flirt with death again. He then broke off communications, and was now happily disassembling protons with his wife in Belgium somewhere.

César then was forced to call the last person on Holiday's list – Rhodes, a close friend of Holiday's. Her pedigree was unmatched – a genius in every sense of the word, also known for her brash willingness to put life and limb on the line, as evinced during the orbital fight with ZAG-RS that had resulted in her floating through space for several hours. This act had greatly impressed most of the scientific community, and it perhaps reveals something of her character when one considers that her radio time had been spent almost entirely upon blackballing Bouvier vociferously from her spacesuit while she floated aimlessly about.

Initially recalcitrant, Rhodes' refusal to come to Providence had been something of a severe setback for César. César, out of options and desperate for a capable assistant, resorted to pestering her with ever-increasing salary offers until she finally broke and came over, if only to gain respite from the barrage of requests. The change was barely noticeable – Meechum was happy, explosions were regular, injuries were near-fatal, and all was well with the world. César Labs continued to churn out idiotic devices and ridiculous schemes at a fantastic rate, content to ignore and be ignored by the world at large. At least until the next squid broke out.

All this was in the back of Six's mind as he watched the chaos playing out before him. _In retrospect, this was a terrible idea._

* * *

There appeared to be a gigantic multi-limbed contraption in the center of the room, with at least a hundred appendages wildly flailing about. Its arms waved randomly through the cluttered lab, knocking books of notes flying and sending the room further into the general disarray that had settled upon it. Each metallic arm gripped a jar containing various substances, ranging from bouncing creatures to bubbling red liquids.

César was huddled at a computer screen at the side of the room frantically keying in commands while frantically dodging the many projectiles whirling around the room. As he worked, he kept shouting a steady stream of unhelpful things like, "Make sure the Sample Collector doesn't drop anything", and "Watch out for that jar of hydrochloric acid" to Doctor Rhodes, who was grimly hanging on to one of the arms. She appeared to be working her way to the frenzied center of the mass, climbing hand over hand along the metal structure she clung to like a limpet.

As Six was processing this, he caught a glimpse of the Lab's third member, Peter Meechum, poking his nose above an upturned desk on the far end of the room. The man looked almost complacent, sitting there peacefully while the room turned upside down. He continued looking complacent, right up until a well-timed jar of black slop hit the man's nose straight on, knocking him backwards and out of sight.

Six stood in the doorway for a moment, mentally blinking as he took the bizarre scene in. _What?_ Only when a transparent tentacle (that arose quite mysteriously from the goo splattered on the remains of the wall behind him) decided to make a grab for his face did he begin to move.

Nimbly dodging the pseudopod that had attacked him, Six leapt onto the nearest table, cluttered as it was, and threw one of his swords like a spear towards the heart of the machine. It was a time-honored ploy, a tactic that had yet to fail him – attack the heart of the thrashing mass to stop it all. Unfortunately for his scheme, the machine executed another contorted twist just then, deflecting the blade with an oddly shaped piece of concrete and sending the weapon spinning to the back of the room, where it impaled itself inches from Peter Meechum's face.

Meechum's shocked eyes took in his filthy reflection on the meticulously polished blade for a scant instant, before rolling into the back of his sludge-covered head as the scientist collapsed into a dead faint.

"Six!" César called, finally noticing the ninja crouched on one of the desks. "_No es buen momento!_"

"Yeah, and try to keep the blades _away_ from the faculty, hmm?" Doctor Rhodes bit out while trying to crawl up the arm she was hanging onto.

Six quirked a physical eyebrow at this, and pulled out his second blade. Jumping onto a thrashing limb that nearly took his feet out from under him, he ran up the metal arm towards the heart of the machine. The limb changed direction contortedly, and he sprang off of it into the air, landing neatly on top of the machine's center while driving his katana through the heart of the computer box.

The device's appendages contorted once, violently, dislodging Doctor Rhodes from her perch and sending her careening into César, who barely had time to look up before getting a mouthful of Providence standard issue size-8 leather boot heel. A huge cloud of smoke billowed from the depths of the control panel, which sparked uncontrollably for a few moments before finally falling silent.

"Is everything all right in here?" Six asked, perhaps a tad unnecessarily, as he pulled his blade from the device it was embedded in.

"No, everything is most certainly not 'all right' in here, you idiotic – get _off_ me, you hog!" Doctor Rhodes snapped, as she unceremoniously flipped César off of her. As she stood and dusted herself off, she said, "The Sample Collector has gone berserk, and we now have this mess to clean up because some total _idiot_ thought it would be a good idea to recalibrate the device _before_ removing all the containers!"

César chipped in, "How was I to know what would happen if I tried to realign all the joints while attempting a cold reboot of the system? Although, I did see a fascinating reaction when the methyl mercapatan solution collided with the oxidized titanium powder…"

Six tuned out of the conversation here, and went to collect his second blade from Peter Meechum's side of the room. The man was lying face-up in a rather large puddle of black fluid that was shifting and roiling ominously. His eyes were closed, and Six might have thought that he was sleeping if not for the putrid liquid coating his face and body and the disheveled state of his clothes.

Six heaved the man's prone form onto a nearby gurney (accidents were so common in César's lab, the man practically had a mini-hospital right there) and wheeled the stretcher to the center of the room. Glancing back at the bickering pair who were still freely trading insults, Six left the room. Just another day at Providence labs, once the world's last hope.

Six checked his wristwatch. If he hurried, he might be back in time for the ending of the party. Six had no clue what BoBo had planned for the ending, but he was certain that it was highly dangerous and quite probably illegal, so he had to be there to make sure nothing got out of control. After all, it wouldn't do for anyone to get hurt _after_ they'd saved the world, now, would it?

This thought propelled him faster through the prison quadrant, his feet making absolutely no noise whatsoever on the reinforced steel floors. He was a few feet from the door and reached his hand out to the keypad when suddenly, the alloyed pane slid open, revealing a face that was somehow familiar…

xxXxx

* * *

A/N– So, you may have noticed that I played Rhodes here as the belligerent, snappish type of character – think Gwen from Man of Action's other production, only with triple the IQ points. In _Gravity,_ all we see of her personality is that she was friends with Holiday (Holiday looks visibly upset when Rhodes washes out of the hatch), she was quite bold (volunteered to help take down ZAG-RS) and was quite disdainful of Bouvier's magic program even before it failed. As for Six's time-honored ploy, that's a reference to the Cactus Evo (Father Jose) – another place where Six attacked a tentacled creature by going for the core.

**YellowAngela**: So far, I think I'm only missing Surge (or Serj – I'm not sure how to spell that), as well as the Numbers (One, Dos, Tres, IV and Five). Not quite sure how to work them in – maybe at the very end for a cameo appearance, or something. Thanks for the encouragement!

**theWriterunknown**: Thanks! Gatlocke's character takes a bit of work, but your review says that it was all worth it. I've read your story "Vanesse Kleiss", and would encourage you to keep at it – I've never seen a story quite like it, and I like what I'm seeing! Keep it up!

**FloatingPizza**: Thanks for the lengthy review, and thanks for reading the story so well – I can't tell you how happy that makes me (as cheesy as that compliment may be). About Caesar's name – thanks for that tidbit, I had no idea it actually had an accent on it. As you can probably tell, I've changed it throughout the story. Thanks! And about the poem – sorry, but I'm really just an amateur. The fact that you read it, though, makes me pretty happy, to say the least. Thanks so much.

And now, a poem. To celebrate the end of mid-terms and SAT! _Viva la revolucion!_ So...cold...(dies). Give me Liberty or give me Death! _El…Psy…Congroo_! Is that your Final Answer? Forty-two! (I need sleep…)

_Why the slow torture  
__Man of Action does not care  
__Give me Season Four_


	6. Completed Labor

_Three days and four hours after the New Event  
__Greenville, Ohio_

The silence lay heavily upon the room, broken softly by the rhythmic tapping of the keyboard coupled with infrequent clinks and rings coming from the tools being used. The lights flickered intermittently, illuminating the spent figure crouched over the mechanical monstrosity on the floor.

The exhausted man took a step back from his work, getting a good look at the device he had constructed. He looked at the tangled mess of wires and chips disgorged from the heart of the beast and Granted, it would not be winning engineering prizes for tidiness any time soon, but it was finished, and it was perf– _Is that flux responder in _front_ of the switchboard?_ His arms quivered as he corrected the sequencing.

Van Kleiss shook his head. His vision was blurring, and his fingers had taken to twitching involuntarily if he lost focus. To make matters worse, his functioning mind seemed to be asleep already, as it had allowed him to make a completely amateur error. This level of incompetence was unacceptable.

_Soon I can relax – once I've finished my work. That, of course, takes priority. After all, if I don't ensure my continued existence, then it's all for naught_, he thought, too weary even to berate his mind for talking to itself. He'd forgone such luxuries as wasting time rebuking himself: indeed, it was all he could do to keep his muscles moving.

Kleiss was utterly exhausted, a state of being that he had grown rather used to during his frantic run through time from the tachyon field that was Breach. In that time, he'd excused practically every breach of etiquette he'd committed – from talking to himself, to singing, to writing poetry, and going insane during his more boring decades. Still, talking to oneself was the first sign of madness after all, and should not be borne in a scientist of his caliber.

However, for the last couple of centuries, sometime in between being a Viking raider and a Spanish conquistador (he forgot which), Van Kleiss had done some soul-searching, which obviously required talking to oneself. Besides, he'd learnt the hard way that a millennium of just thinking in stasis with one's neural pathways active could get boring fast. Talking to himself was one of the least insane things he could have been spending his time doing (he tried going mad once, but got bored of that eventually). A few dozen decades ago, sometime during the course of one of his inner dialogues, he'd realized something very important.

He was losing direction.

* * *

When he was younger, Van Kleiss had been ambitious. It was all so simple – he'd take control of the world someday, after a few years in high school. After all, he'd studied the existing government structure, and had decided that it could use some adjustments. Accordingly, he threw himself into his studies, which naturally were extensive and varied. By the age of twenty-three, he'd mapped out his life's course very practically – he would join a government funded research organization, work his work up the ranks, enter the higher superstructure, and secure a position of power. From there, he could manipulate the machinations of the system like a puppet-master and truly fulfill his dream of total control.

Of course, when the outcast had grown up some more, he found a more realistic way to make his dreams a reality, signing onto the Nanite Project at the first chance he got. This was beyond his wildest dreams – placed in charge of a project that could make him the most powerful being in the universe.

He'd done so well: he'd hidden his intentions from everyone, had played the part of a _good_ researcher, and had completed work on the meta-nanites. He even managed to get rid of those two nosey parkers, Rafael and Violetta, although he couldn't get their son. Both their sons, in fact.

_And look where that got me_, Van Kleiss sighed mentally. _On the run from every functioning government on the planet, trapped in inter-dimensional limbo with a bunch of soon-to-be extinct creatures, doomed to an ignominious death unless I can complete this machine, and with no signs of ever seeing the meta-nanites again in this lifetime._

Which led him to the present: trying to restart his legacy desperately so he could resume…what? What was he working for? If his plan came to fruition, he would rule the EVO nation, but what was the point of that? He'd nearly had control of time and space not too long ago. Was this settling for less? Going from the Universe to a small country loathed by everyone…didn't seem like a reasonable trade. Where was he supposed to go from here?

Van Kleiss was broken out of his existentialistic reverie by a loud crashing outside the room, followed some shrill screeching and low grunting that he identified respectively as Keeper (as they had decided to call her) and Skalamander brawling again. Disturbed by his lapse in concentration, he returned his attention to the machine while trusting Biowulf to keep the two fighters away from him and the machine.

The machine – that fragile mixture of alloys and metals that would hopefully prove to be his salvation. He was basically working from his memories of an old prototype he had seen hundreds of years ago, before his journey through time, while he was cannibalizing the now-defunct Moses Laboratories (closed due to a sudden withdrawal of all funding) for equipment and data. That machine as he remembered it could isolate the bonds holding nanites together and supercharge them, turning an EVO into a super-EVO with enhanced abilities.

He couldn't believe it. A nobody from some cheap research facility had somehow managed to locate the nanite bonds – and had decided to weaponize his discovery! Of all the things he could have accomplished we that discovery, and the fool fell to his greed. Just another example of how poorly EVOs were treated by humans.

Anyway, Van Kleiss combined this with the information he had extracted from ZAG-RS' motherboard before that memory dump he'd committed way back in the desert, and had created a mish-mash of cables and transistors that could hypothetically turn back time – figuratively speaking, of course. If he could isolate the bonds of the currently inactive nanites and reprogram them with ZAG-RS' data while supercharging their bonds…he'd postulated interesting results.

Kleiss had no way to guarantee the planetary reaction when he powered his device up, as he had no prior data to work upon. One did not re-infect the entire globe with a deadly plague every other day, after all. However, he had been able to calculate that every nanite on the planet would be activated once more when he jump-started them, and the odds that any given random person would turn into an EVO would be around 0.06%, which was perfectly acceptable. He postulated that perhaps the nanite bonds in subjects who were EVOs prior to the Second Nanite Event would be more susceptible to his device's call, but that was mere supposition.

Perhaps more importantly, the nanite-infused soil in Abysus would be activated again, and he could draw from his reservoir of strength once more and begin to really focus on taking control.

_But all of that is in the future_, Van Kleiss thought to himself. _For now, this machine is of paramount importance_.

After double-checking all the soldering points again to ensure solid contact and giving the apparatus yet another once-over to ensure that everything was in the proper order, Van Kleiss stepped back. The programming was finished, and he was ready to go. He decided to conduct a mock trial to verify that all the pieces were functioning properly and that the code ran through the system correctly. However, just as he was about to turn it on, a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in", he called, just as all the lights went out. _A curious phenomenon_, Van Kleiss thought as his eyes adjusted to the lower level of light coming from the computer screens which remained on for a few seconds longer, drawing reserves from their shallow capacitors, before they too winked out, leaving Van Kleiss in utter darkness.

_How peculiar_.

* * *

The doorway opened slowly, shafts of light filtering past the bulky figure shuffling through the narrow entrance. Floorboards creaking beneath his misaligned limbs, Skalamander sidled in, carefully maneuvering his bulk between the tottering piles of computer parts until he stood in front of Van Kleiss, mumbling and looking from side to side rather guiltily.

"What is it now, Skalamander?" asked Van Kleiss, although he had a pretty fair idea of what was coming.

The green behemoth rumbled, "Master, an…incident involving the pylons has just occurred. The Keeper was throwing some of the ice creams vans around, and one of them, errm, kind of brushed by the generator out back..." Behind the green behemoth stood Biowulf, lurking silently. Kleiss gave him a look, to which Biowulf shook his shaggy head slightly.

Van Kleiss groaned inside, although he kept a straight face in front of the help. _There goes the electricity. So much for that test sequence I was going to run…_ The generator was probably wrecked. No point brooding over it, there were things that needed to be done, and soon.

"Skalamander, help me lift this platform to the open. Biowulf, find Breach and tell her to meet me as soon as she can."

As his helpers scurried to do his bidding, Van Kleiss sank into a cheap plastic chair gratefully, relishing the opportunity to rest his aching legs. His neck ached, and, now that he thought about it, his eyelids felt heavy from over three days of being kept open, staring at bright screens and dark corners. He inclined his head slightly, allowing his eyes to droop slightly, rationalizing internally that a few minutes of rest wouldn't hurt. In fact, they'd probably help. _And besides, the plan is already in motion. I just need to power it up. All the work is done, and I finally have some time to myself_.

Having placated his over-active upper brain, Van Kleiss allowed his head to rest upon the wall sideways, releasing himself into the eager embrace of sleep. He closed his eyes, and drifted off slowly, feeling a most relaxing sensation of falling slowly, spinning in circles gently, tossed to and from, as his consciousness sailed across the quiet waters of his brain…

Which, of course, is when Breach decided to show up.

xxXxx

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry about the slow updates, but college is murderous. That's a terrible excuse, I know, but it's all I've got. Still, like I said, this is probably the update speed: once around every two weeks, with more if I get a) random, inspirational visits from my Muse, or b) a ton of free time.

Well, now we all know what Kleiss has been working on so feverishly (if you hadn't already worked that out). I don't really know much about the meta-nanites method of reprogramming all regular nanites, but I do know a few things about ZAG-RS's information. Please follow the train of thought: In Gravity, ZAG-RS gained data on how to modify nanite's to self-destruct. Van Kleiss purportedly initiated a memory dump on ZAG-RS (yes, I know it could have been César's doing, but I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt here). Since Van Kleiss also ransacked Moses Laboratories (why not?), he now knows how to program nanites, and how to locate their bonds.

His machine is capable of isolating the bonds (like Moses could), and forcing the nanites to reactive by reversing the programming he received from ZAG-RS. This may be a bit of a stretch, but come on – this is fanfiction!

**YellowAngela**: Thanks for the info. I wasn't really sure of how to characterize Rhodes, but I'm glad you like it – it was kind of difficult, and required three good, solid re-watches of Gravity. I think it kind of sucks that neither she nor Volkov make an appearance later in the series – Volkov especially, with his dry wit and calm temperament. "It appears we are going to die...again", delivered in a completely deadpan voice.

**theWriterunknown**: Thanks: César's one of my favorite characters too – his genius intellect and bumbling, innocent personality make for a great character. I think his attitude is perfectly summed up in one dialogue from Haunted: [Rex]: "Oooh...is that some sort of nanite thing?" [César nonchalantly picks it up]: "Mango smoothie...but _this_ is my hyper-electromagnet that can disassemble a tank from a kilometer away. _(sips drink)_ And evidently it can also make deliciously creamy smoothies."

**Lily. **: Thanks for reviewing! It's nice to know that I'm not the only perfection-maniac out there. Thanks for pointing out the EVO-capitalization thing, which I'd completely missed. I've since corrected both the issues with Captain Calan's and César's names. Thanks for the compliments, and I hope you like where the story is going!

And now, the usual poem. Because tradition is stronger than steel. And yes, this really is a form of poetry.

_On a softened chair  
__In a dim and crowded room  
__In a quiet town  
__Having nothing else to do,  
__Am typing on my keyboard._


	7. The Forgotten

**A/N**: Sooooo…before we go anywhere, what d'you guys think of OC's? You know, random characters (like Mary Sues) pulled in for no reason other than to help the author relieve some personal fantasies? I've never really liked them (I'm only using one of them in a major role this whole story), but I find myself in something of a bind now. I have one character who needs to be a sort of Original Character, but he's really in the canon! In fact, he's a pretty big character, but we still have no clue what he's really like after the Second Nanite Event! I feel like this kind of makes him an OC, because I've basically made him the character that I want him to be, but he's really in the canon. What a conundrum.

For the record, this character has shown up before…somewhere. Hunter mentioned him in the second chapter, "Remembering Well", but it took up around one line, so don't worry too much about it. Although I do recall mentioning him in an Author's Note as well. And now it's probably pretty obvious who the new guy's going to be. Oh, well. Try to act surprised, at least.

Anyway, enjoy the extra super-duper long update. Hope y'all had a nice Veteran's Day.

Oh, and Claire plays the violin. Why? Because I will it to be so.

* * *

_Providence Holding Cell 6  
__Concurrently_

_Suddenly, the alloyed pane slid open…_

Six instantly ran some calculations behind his reflective shades – there was no reason anyone should be in this sector of the building now – all the grunts were partying, the scientists were with them, and Six had just seen Rex, the perennial wildcard, slung between two Providence agents. Concluding that the intruder was not one of the regular Providence staff, and was hence a potential threat, Six went into defense mode. He crouched low and slid both his blades out, swiveling his right hand till the blade was at his eye-level, prepared to take out the intruder when the door opened fully.

When the panel had slid away, Six flowed forward with practiced ease, placing the tip of the blade under the interloper's chin, around his Adam's Apple. His left hand was already reaching for the communicator to contact White and report a security breach.

Before Six could make the call, however, the mysterious intruder batted away the blade like lightning and responded with a blistering punch that nearly caught Six's face.

Acting on pure reflex alone, the ninja dodged nimbly to the side, charging forward and driving the hilt of his katana into the man's face. The tall figure staggered backwards into the wall, leaning on it heavily. He swayed a moment, then fell to one knee, grunting unintelligibly. While the assailant was distracted, Six got his first good look at the man.

He was tall, maybe six feet four, and had a carefully groomed head of black hair that had been knocked slightly out of array by the preceding scuffle. The few unkempt strands of hair were obscuring the man's eyes, and the hand gently palpitating the forehead removed any chances of facial identification.

The man's other hand was resting on the floor, supporting the bulk of his weight. His fingers were splayed out, pale digits stretched out like the legs of a spider. His fingernails were healthy and clean, neatly trimmed. The hand itself was thin enough for his tendons to be corded visibly underneath the skin.

He wore a casual t-shirt with jeans, and his sneakers were an off-white color. His upper body was lithe, and gave the impression of muscularity with agility. He looked built for running and fast movements, an appearance assisted by his narrow shoulders and skinny legs.

The man was rubbing his forehead softly and groaning in a pained manner, cursing quietly in a language that seemed quite similar to some East Slavic languages Six knew. The tone of voice sounded vaguely familiar to Six, like someone that he should have known. Just as Six was placing the voice, the man looked up.

His face was almost pallid in tone, the blotchy red mark on the upper cranium standing out atrociously against its milk-white canvas. The mouth was thinned visibly as the stranger bit down more moans, and the forehead was wrinkled with the pain. But the most striking part of the man's physiognomy was his eyes.

They were dark brown eyes that seemed to be shot with a tinge of red upon the sclera. Windows of expression, they stared out with a baffled intensity that seemed to remind Six of a caged bear that was angry. Angry at the world, and uncaring of who its wrath was inflicted upon. Six involuntarily flinched back a step, and just as quickly as the look had come, it vanished. It was replaced by the humorous, almost wry look that Six had gotten used to seeing.

"Well", the man said, smiling crookedly, "Hello to you, too, Six."

* * *

Six sheathed both his blades and straightened. "Evan. What are you doing here?"

Evan, the erstwhile No-Face, shrugged his thin shoulders, but the question was unnecessary. Six knew what Evan had been doing. After all, the man had been doing pretty much nothing else for the past several days.

All over the globe, formerly incurable EVOs were responding differently to being cured at last. Some had experienced total memory recall, and had been able to return to their families and normal lives. Others remembered memories as humans but not those as EVOs, and were able to reintegrate with their previous lives perfectly and completely. However, a few rare cases had lost all their memories, except those required for cognitive functions and basic, day-to-day life.

Evan was one of the unlucky few – the only documented specimen on record, as a matter of fact. He had been found in his jail cell unconscious after the Second Nanite Event, and when awoken, had mumbled things like "_Povtoryuyuchy holosy…pishly nareshti_," which had baffled everyone in Providence who didn't know Ukrainian.

He'd had no memory whatsoever of his time as an EVO, and had been rather shocked when shown the pictures of what he'd once been. Eventually, the Doc had decided to keep him under constant observation, for research purposes.

Evan was around 21-ish, although of course Holiday was just estimating when she said that. He was rather erudite, with an extensive vocabulary and a wry and indefatigable personality. His face was finely chiseled, and his fingers were long and delicate. He was lankily built, and his eyes normally had an air of education about them. All manner of information seemed to be inside his head, although his specialty seemed to have been history. He also had an unusually wide experience with instruments, playing Haydn's _Arabesque_ almost unconsciously when he first saw a piano.

He had also taken Annie on one date, a fact that Rex and Noah seemed to find incredibly significant. Of course, the 'date' had merely been a spot of browsing for possible college campuses that Claire was looking at, but it was memorable enough to earn the status of a legend at Providence. After all, Annie had come to visit, and no bones had been broken, which was in itself a world record…

* * *

**Flashback Commences**

* * *

_Three days earlier,_

_Providence Headquarters_

Evan was wandering around the halls, taking in everything he saw with interest. He'd just woken up in this place, and was still coming to grips with it. There was so much to see, and all kinds of information to absorb.

After the Doctor had explained his situation and briefed him on his history, she'd set him loose with a smile. The aura of sheer unadulterated relief that permeated the building was infectious, and soon Evan was smiling along with everyone he met. Laughter was around every corner, and partying seemed to be on everyone's agenda.

While most people in his position might have been at least a little worried about having been dropped into a completely new Universe with no memory of the last one, Evan had taken the news of his amnesia in stride. His scholarly mind had analyzed his circumstances quite efficiently, and had determined that there was nothing for him to worry about. The images of EVOs (especially of himself as NoFace) had thrown him a little, but apparently all the troubles were over, and everything was fine. A very rational sounding voice was whispering inside him, telling him that amnesia was no laughing matter, but he suppressed it. Besides, everyone was having so much fun; it'd be a shame to ruin it.

"Come on, Claire, let's join the party!"

"Annie, this is important to me. Besides, it's _my_ future we're talking about. I know the world's just flipped upside-down again, but that's no excuse to ignore the coming deadlines."

"She's right, Annie. Making the right choice for college is crucial, and could influence the rest of her life. Let the girl take a bit of time over it, OK?" There appeared to be a young female with short blonde hair and light blue eyes arguing against a couple of teens: a blonde boy in a weather-beaten green jacket, with his arms slung around a shorter girl with copper-red hair and sea-green eyes. The redhead was carrying a portfolio that appeared to be overflowing with pamphlets of some sort.

"Stay out this, Noah. Besides, weren't you and Rex going to shoot some hoops, Mr. Nosey?"

"Something came up. The President of Germany wanted to thank him personally, so Rex had to skip out before we could finish. Not that it mattered much, seeing how badly he was being crushed…"

"Stop bragging, Noah, we all know Rex has never even gotten a point against you. I've never been able to figure out how you manage to work that into every conversation we have…"

As Noah sputtered indignantly against Annie's accusation, Evan managed to compile a brief list of the characters so far: Annie was the blonde girl, Claire was the redheaded girl and Noah was the blonde guy. Claire wanted to make a choice about college, and Annie wanted to party. Noah was siding with Claire (his girlfriend?), and Annie was lashing at him for that. Evan nodded, satisfied. A most excellent summation of the conversation so far. But who was this Rex character?

The redhead designated as Claire chimed in: "Yeah, lay off of Rex. You know he's paying for our college, right? Why, if it weren't for him…I'm sorry, can I help you? You seem to be taking an unusual amount of interest in our discussion. "

Evan blinked. What? "No, I'm sorry, I was just looking around."

The blonde guy, Noah, looked a bit suspicious. "Yeah? And why were you listening in on our _private_ conversation?"

_OK, think fast, think fast…_"I couldn't help but overhear that the young lady is considering her potential colleges?" he said, nodding deferentially at Claire, who bobbed her head.

"That's right."

"If I could offer my own input?" Noah looked dubious, but Claire nodded behind him. Evan nodded his thanks back, and said:

"I would recommend that you take the time to consider where you will be going, as college is an important step in your education. Unless you sit down and actively think about where you'll be going, you cannot hope to attain your dreams. Without the proper grounding in your field, gaining any foundations in your career will be next to impossible!"

He stood back and waved his arms fiercely, overcome with the passion of the moment.

"Besides, if you don't shoot as high as you possibly can for your life, are you not wasting the mind that was granted to you? Also, does education not provide for you for the rest of your life? Has not Aristotle said: "Education is the best provision for old age"? Will you while away your time in substandard halls of education, stagnant? Squandering your intellect?"

As his inspirational speech wound down, Evan realized that Noah, Annie and Claire were staring at him with a look that bordered on stunned. He also noticed that he was breathing deeply and felt mildly surprised. _Where did that come from? I don't remember having such firm opinions about college. Come to think of it, I don't remember much of anything else either…_

Claire was the first to recover. "Well, that settles it. Annie, I'm sorry, but I can't party. I've got some research to do."

And that was how Evan found himself sitting at a table in the Providence cafeteria with Annie, Claire and Noah, discussing the benefits and downsides of each specific college Claire was considering. Evan gestured at a brochure.

"How about this?"

Claire glanced over it, then made a face. "Grenadi Design School? Well, they sound great and all, but I hear they focus more on the digital design and architecture side of the arts. I'm looking for a more music-centric campus, one that can really broaden my horizons. Besides, I hear Grenadi changed its name to Tractor. Who'd want to go to a college named _Tractor_?"

Evan nodded in somewhat dubious agreement. He'd never really had anything against tractors, but he did understand her desire for a more musical college. He picked up another one.

"How does this look?"

Claire took the brochure, then dropped it like a hot potato. "Yeuch! Berklee College of Music! How gauche." She shook her head violently for a moment before returning to searching with Noah.

Evan, baffled, turned to Annie. "Gauche? What is wrong with Berklee? They claim to be the largest independent college of contemporary music in the world. Did I say something wrong?"

Annie was shaking her head and clutching her forehead in exasperation.

"Nah, it's nothing you did. It's just that Berklee is one of the best colleges in the world for _contemporary _music, especially percussion instruments." Annie stopped talking, as though that explained everything.

Evan, of course, was still in the dark. "Percussion? I don't understand. What has that to do with anything?"

Annie sighed in exasperation. "Do I need to spell it out for you? Fine, you know that Claire plays the violin, right?"

"Uh–"

"Well, now you know. Anyway, she's always had this deep-seated loathing of drums, tambourines, and other rhythmic instruments. Just the thought of going to a college where they'll be dedicated to studying nothing but those…well, she doesn't like thinking about it."

Evan nodded. It made perfect sense. It was only reasonable that the delicate sensibilities of a violin player would be shocked at the mere mention of percussion instruments. Clearly, she was quite serious about pursuing a career in music.

Evan's mind was taken away from his thoughts by Annie, who was moaning from sheer boredom.

"Come _on_, something happen, _please_!"

The chef in charge of the kitchen slumped, his head in his hands. Now she'd torn it. Didn't she know those words were the perfect way to jinx a normal morning? When the Blonde Widow started talking like that, there was nothing to do but get the mops ready and break out the second-best plates. The cafeteria staff moved a bit farther away from Annie _en masse_, afraid that the legendary bad-luck charm might affect them if they were too close. One of the weaker staff members actually turned and fled back into the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind him. The remaining servers shifted uneasily, prepared to deal with whatever came next.

Suddenly…nothing happened.

Evan looked around, feeling mildly surprised. _Funny, for a moment there, the room felt quite tense. Almost as though something was on its way…_

The cafeteria staff relaxed. The chef dared to breathe easy. Maybe this time, nothing would hap–

A few seconds behind cue, a foot kicked the door open mightily, and in strode a Hispanic teen in a red jacket.

"_Hola, hombres!_ I was looking all over for you guys!" He waltzed in and had Noah in a headlock before anyone could so much as blink. "What, thought you could bail on me, eh?"

Noah, while struggling to escape Rex's grip: "Oh, Rex, great to see you. Leggo my head and give us a hand instead, buddy."

Rex looked over and picked up one of the pamphlets. "College prep already? After the world just got saved? Noah, my friend, you never cease to amaze me."

Claire cut in. "Actually, Rex, he's helping me decide where I should go. Care to join us?"

The teen shrugged and released the blonde. "Sorry, never really given much thought to college. Never much cared for it: I mean, the Doc's cramming all the books she can into my head, so why torture myself further? Besides, I just don't care for that kind of thing."

Evan puffed up, irate. A lazy student! The nerve! Something had to be done about this travesty, so he opened his mouth to deliver a scathing diatribe that would put this heretic back in his place. However, Annie, noticing this, cut in quickly.

"Say, Rex! Have you met our newest member, Evan?"

Rex turned and noticed the man for the first time. "Huh. Who's he?"

Claire spoke from the other side. "He's just some guy we bumped into, you know, walking around…"

Annie piped in indignantly. "He's not _just some guy_, he's helping us sort through some of Claire's colleges."

Rex placed a scrutinizing eye on Evan. "Helping my friends, eh?" He looked the man up and down critically.

Evan felt mildly uncomfortable, as though he were being evaluated against an invisible sliding scale. Rex seemed to reach a decision, then stuck his hand out.

"I'm Rex Salazar. Rex to my friends. You can call me Rex, if you want to."

Evan looked at the hand for a second, then took it. "Evan."

Annie clapped. "Great! Now that introductions are done, I'll go grab us something to eat. Pizza sound good?"

There were no objections, so Annie ran off to place the order. Evan stood up as well. "I have to use the restroom", he said, walking off towards the bathrooms. Before he left, though, he turned around to speak to Rex.

"Just curious, why don't you feel the urge to get a college education?"

Rex grinned, then transformed his left hand into a Smack Hand. "When I've got things like these at my beck-and-call, why would I need to learn more about anything? I like trig, but that's pretty much it. Besides, I'm world famous, so I don't need much else from life."

Silence. Rex lowered his hand. The guy looked completely taken aback. "What? You _have_ heard of me, right? The Secret Weapon, Savior of the World? Any of that ringing a bell?"

Evan remained shocked by the fist for a moment more, then cleared his head. _Why am I so disturbed by this sight? It's not like I didn't see worse things than this in those pictures. Still, I'm feeling unusually aggressive for some reason. Best to play it safe__._ He scratched the back of his head and smiled. "Sorry, never heard of you. I'm new here, you see…"

Rex was confused. New? But he was famous all around the world! Hong Kong, New York, the entire UN – you name it, he'd been there. And this guy was European! There's no way he couldn't tell who he was – come on, the Smack Hands were universally recognized! So how…

"Hey guys!" Rex's musings were cut short by Annie's call as she ran back from the register.

She _ran_ back from the register. The cafeteria staff, who were going about their business as usual, took note of this with great interest. After a few shared looks and several serious nods, they executed their emergency plan. A few seconds later, they were all cowering under the counters, holding pots and pans over their heads while praying to their various deities. Having seen it in action, they all recognized and respected that indelible iron law – **Annie must never run**. Who knew what could go wrong if the sacred code was broken?

"I placed the order, so the pizza should be ready in five min–oops!"

* * *

Evan was watching as it happened. He saw, with perfect clarity, Annie tripping over her own feet and bumping into Rex. He saw the boy's Smack Hand, already unbalanced from its own weight, lose its center of gravity and tumble down heavily. He watched the ridiculously heavy metal fist catch the edge of a nearby table, sending the piece of furniture tumbling over into a wall.

And, what's more, he saw the transparent jug of water that had been standing on the table come flying through the air at his face.

Evan's eyes widened, and _something_ happened.

It wasn't as though time slowed to a crawl, or anything like that. Rather, Evan felt as though his body was what had sped up. His eyes took in the projectile flying towards his face, sending messages through his optic nerve. His brain worked overtime, neural impulses flying as he analyzed the situation subconsciously.

_Velocity: approximately 42 miles per hour. Time till collision: 0.34 seconds. Estimated impact point: upper splanchnocranial region. Results: cranial lacerations and contusions, certain fractured frontal plate, probable brain damage. Logical conclusion: evasive action required._

Evan immediately threw himself onto the floor so that he was staring up at the ceiling. The fluorescent bulbs shone brightly, dazzling his eyes momentarily as he adjusted to his new position.

_Reaction time: 0.26 seconds. Results: one broken mug, a rather large mess to clean up_.

Lying on his back, he could see the whole vista play out before him. The spiraling mug arrowed its way through the space his head had occupied a few moments before. The translucent glass caught the light from the ceiling and sparkled brightly with it, the pristine fluid within the container swirling, a mass of ever-changing light patterns and prisms. Evan could see all this happen as it passed him by, taking in every detail of the environment. He frowned internally. _A rather large mess to clean up? What a shame…_

_Angle of flight: 3.5˚ from current latitudinal position. Momentum of target: 2.7 kilograms per meter_x_second. Estimated muscle output required: 17% of full capacity. Most preferable alignment of digits for optimal interception being calculated._

Acting almost of its own accord, Evan's hand shot up from beside him. Reaching through the air, his fingers contorted around the handle of the flask as it flew by him. Twisting his wrist at exactly the right time, he neatly flipped the jug around in mid-air, halting the water and catching it in the container at the same time. He then curved his wrist immediately so that it was holding the water level with the ground, ensuring that not a single drop was spilled.

He straightened himself up, placed the jug neatly on a nearby table, and turned and walked to the bathroom, leaving a group of stunned teens behind him.

_No mess to clean up now._

And then: _Now how_ _in heaven's name did I do that?_

* * *

As Evan walked out, Annie whistled. "That was pretty cool."

As he watched Evan stroll into the bathroom, there was just one question on Rex's mind.

_Who is this guy?_

Five minutes later, they were all sitting around the table, digging into the largest pizza the traumatized cafeteria staff were capable of making. Rex was taking a look at some of the colleges for Claire, and pulling out suggestions at random. "How's this one?"

Claire looked at it for a moment before shaking her head. "Marist University. They only offer a minor in music."

Rex, nonplussed, rallied quickly and presented another. "What d'you think of this?"

She spared it another rapid glance, then scoffed. "The Lübeck Conservatoire? You do know they spat out David Garrett, that speed-playing violinist, right? How modernistic can you get?"

Rex, utterly defeated, caved in and gave up. He turned to Evan in despair.

"Come on, man! Back me up here!" No response. Rex peered over at the man.

"Evan? Hey, Evan, what's up?" Evan snapped out of his daze and handed a brochure to Rex somewhat automatically.

"Hmm? Oh, here. Take a look at this one."

"The Tchaikovsky National Music Academy of Ukraine? What a mouthful. What's so special about this, again?"

Claire looked over. "Oh, the Kiev Conservatory. Yeah, I took a look at them. They had some pretty impressive qualifications for piano – it was founded by Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff. after all. I looked at their site, though, and it seems they've lost some of their faculty, so they're not as elite as they used to be. Besides, they're focused on piano, and I play the violin. I'd heard that they were going to…"

Evan tuned her voice out for the roaring in his ears. _Kiev Conservatory? Why does that sound so familiar? And why does the piano sound so alluring?_

Rex stood up and stretched. "Weeeell, it's been fun and all, and I wish you luck on your quest, but I must be off now. Later all."

Noah stood up. "Dude! Not cool! You can't just bail out on my date _again_! Who's going to stick with Annie? What happened to 'wingman'? What happened to 'best friends'? What happened to–"

Rex waved an arm. "Sheesh, calm down, man. It's not my call, Holiday wants me to come in for another exam. This time its for the Royal Society of London, or something, and my awesome presence is required."

Noah gave Rex a scorching look, which withered the young man's confidence a bit. He twiddled his thumbs a bit awkwardly and looked at the ceiling. "Besides, I may or may not have arranged to meet Circe in the lab in five minutes…but that's not the only reason! I swear!"

Noah sighed, then shrugged. "Fine, Rex. Thanks for ditching me…again."

Rex winced and walked out the door, hands in his pockets jauntily. He paused midway, though, and turned around. "Besides, bro, Annie's got her own chaperone to replace me."

"Huh?" said Annie. This was news to her.

"Huh?" said Noah. Where? Who?

"…" said Claire, who had a fair idea of what was going on.

"Ummm…" said Evan, who _also_ had a fair idea of what Rex meant.

"See yah, Noah! I'll meet you in the ICU later!" Rex hollered over his shoulder. And with that parting shot, the Savior of Humanity walked off down the hallway, laughing quite maniacally.

Evan stood up. "Well, I must be off too." _Got to find more information on that Kiev Conservatory place._ "I find that I have some research to attend to."

Before he'd taken more than a few steps, he felt something attach itself to his lower arm. He looked down to see Annie looking back up at him.

"Great! We'll go together. Those two are lost in their own world anyway."

Evan looked back and had to agree: Claire and Noah were, indeed, quite oblivious to their surroundings as they argued ferociously over the pros and cons of private and public colleges. After a moment of contemplation, he decided.

"Fine, you can come with me. I'm looking for information on the Kiev Conservatory. Do you know where I could find some?"

Annie scrunched up her face. "A conservatory? Well, you could always check the Benjamin High School database – they've got like a bazillion colleges on record there, so they probably have something about the one you're looking at.

Evan thought about it, nodded. "Very well, then. Lead the way."

And that's the story of how Evan and Annie spent an afternoon together, chasing down all kinds of leads on the college. At the end of the day, Evan had narrowly evaded no less than seven near-fatal accidents (one of which involved an open gas tank on a jump jet, a nearby grunt's cigarette, and an unfortunately placed pile of munitions) and had found very little data regarding the college.

Still, it was a start.

* * *

**Flashback Concludes**

* * *

Six remembered that day. Rex had been jabbering away merrily about how the Royal Academy had fawned over him hand-and-foot, when suddenly he stopped mid-sentence. Six, concerned, turned around to look at his charge's face. Rex's mouth was open, and his eyes were bugged out and seemed to be fixed on something located to the ninja's right, in the Providence library. Six swiveled to look inside, and saw the newly cured NoFace studiously hammering away at a laptop, with Annie "The Blonde Widow" hanging over his shoulder, feeding him keywords and advice every once in a while. They seemed to be working together well, and Six had no idea what Rex was so bothered about.

However, as Six watched, Annie gestured wildly, knocking a passing researcher backwards onto a circular table. Acting like some kind of impromptu Rube Goldberg machine, Six watched with interest as the round table, which had been knocked on its side, rolled in a semi-circle until it collided with the bookshelf directly behind Evan's table.

_Fascinating. Hard to believe she does things like that unintentionally._

The bookshelf swayed a moment, dislodging a few books from their positions, before committing to the plunge and falling forward, accelerating with each passing instant. Six tensed, preparing himself for a rapid sprint in. If he was lucky, he might be able to get that guy out from under there in time…

However, before Six could make the move, Evan calmly stood up, folded the laptop and picked it up under his arm. He looked up at the falling books and shelf approaching him, and Six had the uncanny sensation that something outside of his range of perception was going on. Suddenly, like lightning, almost too fast for Six's eyes to follow, Evan dashed out from the path of the shelf, rolling his way out from under the crushing barrage of books and wood that struck the ground an instant after he left, pulverizing the table he had been working at.

Evan stood up, dusted himself off, and turned to Annie, who was helping the researcher back to his feet.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to startle you! Are you sure you're fine?" She turned around and shrieked.

"Evan! What did you do to this place? What happened? Where's my laptop?"

"Oh, nothing. Your laptop's here," he said, nonchalantly strolling out of the room with Annie trailing behind, yammering about how that was _the third time today_, or something.

Six stood still for a moment, then shook his head. _How did he…ah, I see. So Holiday's theory is correct after all._ He turned back to Rex, who was still in a state of semi-shock.

"Six? Who is that guy? Really?"

Six thought about the question. "A friend of mine."

Rex pondered the reply, before staring off in the direction Evan had gone. Rex was unsure about the man's background, but the fact that Evan had escaped from an extensive date with the Blonde Widow with nary a scratch was impressive enough to earn him instant friendship status with Rex. Besides, he and Annie had hit it off fairly well, so that was all right too.

* * *

As far as Evan's amnesia went, Dr. Holiday was unsure as to its exact cause. Holiday had postulated that he must have been so integrated with the nanites – using them to talk and control non-sentient EVOs – that his neural pathways had been wiped from their continual neglect and abuse. After all, Evan's case was quite unprecedented – no one else's nanites had formed a completely separate entity with its own individual personality. It was quite unique, and Holiday intended to study it for all it was worth.

Ever since he had been cured, the man had been hanging around the prison cells, staring at the walls, hoping that familiar surroundings (he _had_ been in that jail for almost a year, after all) would help jog his memory. So far, no dice, but Evan wasn't going to give up hope.

Lately, he'd been hanging out with Rex's schoolmates and old Hong Kong gang. It was a fairly common sight to see the whole group lounging around in the cafeteria, fighting over pizza slices uproariously.

"I am just wandering around, waiting until school is out. I have placed several applications to be allowed to visit Kiev, but so far they have all been denied."

Six nodded, and thought privately of another of Holiday's theories that she expounded on frequently. Holiday thought that former incurable Evos could retain certain characteristics of their former forms – something about muscle memories and some such science-speak.

She had come to this conclusion after watching Cricket leap almost eight feet clear into the air while playing basketball with Rex one day, performing a smooth back-flip before dunking the ball solidly. Holiday immediately ran some tests, and found that some traits _had _been kept over – Walter's bones had an unusually high density, Cricket's muscles could release energy explosively, Tuck was able to win every dodge ball game he played, and Circe's shrieks could still disturb wild animals and break glass. Evan, however, was the most unusual of the lot, as evinced by his recent tussle and ability to survive in close contact with Annie.

Evan had integrated well with Providence, and since he'd had no home to go back to, Holiday had arranged for him to stay with the soldiers. Knight wasn't too happy about the arrangement, but Holiday had managed to pass Evan off as an experiment in progress. However, Evan was not normal – even by the standards of Holiday's new theory. The first sign of any substantial differences was when Evan played cards with BoBo and caught the chimp with two aces taped to the bottom of his chair and a few dozen up his sleeves.

Evan saw red – literally, security footage later showed that his sclera and retina were coated with blood. He then slammed the metal table so hard it bent in half like tinfoil, aimed a colossal blow at BoBo that dented the reinforced wall behind the chimp, and moved fast enough to catch the fleeing primate (who could move _really_ fast when in trouble) in around two and a half seconds.

The bizarre thing about the incident was that when Evan had pinned BoBo to the ground and looked ready to tear the primate's gullet out, the red drained from his eyes and Evan collapsed. He had no memories of the occurrence whatsoever for around half-an-hour, which he spent mostly in a daze, speaking in his native language.

"_Znovu…poodyntsi…"_

When the Doc had run some scans on the comatose Ukrainian, some interesting features immediately showed up. Evan's muscle mass was around 25% larger than average males his age, and his bones contained an extremely high amount of calcium. His reflex tests put him almost on par with Six (almost, but not quite), but the most peculiar part was not physical at all. As Evan himself said later, somewhat poetically:

"I was in control – let us be clear on that. I was not helplessly standing by while some evil doppelganger took control and wreaked havoc – no. I could see what was happening, and everything felt normal, although the world did have an odd tinge of light red, almost pink. The only difference was the pain, the pain and the rage. The pain was crushing, like my very bones were being crushed until they were powder, while my blood seemed to have set itself on fire. Every fiber of my being groaned under this burden, which leads me to the rage. It was all-consuming, the hate you see in the eyes of circus tigers prodded with sharp sticks, the baffled fury of a wild eagle whose wings had been clipped – a sheer, blindingly defiant howl at the world. It seemed quite _right_ to attack Bobo at the time, and I fear that grave things would have happened had I not recovered myself just then."

Since then, Evan had entered his "rage mode" (as Rex had dubbed it) four more times – each time when something made him angry or (occasionally) surprised him, although his reflexes usually ensured that nothing surprised him. Holiday and Six had privately discussed the viability of Evan's retention of his former NoFace personality as a schizophrenic side that surfaced when Evan's temper rose.

The only person in Providence fast enough to shock him into primal defense regularly was Six, who was currently guiding Evan to the nearest infirmary, which happened to be in Providence Holding Cell 7. There was another medi-kit at the prison lockup, but that lay beyond Cell Block 10, three levels down.

Six entered Cell Block 7, the former residence of Evan, took one look into the dank and abandoned hallway, and called White.

"Knight. We have a breach in Corridor 3, Cell Block 7."

xxXxx

* * *

**Unusually lengthy A/N for an unusually lengthy chapter**: And that's Evan for you! A nice guy, with a fairly obvious past (there's really no mystery there). This was actually going to be a short chapter, but became a monster on Veteran's Day, where I sat down, lost track of time, and got up in a daze almost six hours later, at eleven with an extra 4,000 words magically plonked down. I should probably see a doctor about it.

In other news, I've managed to include Annie, Claire, Noah and Rex (who, bizarrely, had had just one speaking role before this) in my story, moving me that much closer to finally including everyone. Sorry about the lengthy flashback, but it was necessary to establish Evan's character.

Now, an **Important Note:** I have nothing whatsoever against the colleges of Grenadi/Tractor, Marist, Lübeck, Berklee or Kiev. They're just tools I'm using to add verisimilitude to the story, and I don't know the first thing about them (other than the fact that all the information I mentioned is accurate, to the best of my knowledge). I have no antipathy at all towards David Garret: the world's fastest violin player. In fact, I strongly advise any fans of Coldplay's _Viva la Vida_ song (like myself) to check out his frankly _amazing_ violin rendition of it, which I'm currently looping on Youtube.

Translations, for you non-Ukrainians out there: _Povtoryuyuchy holosy pishly nareshti_: Повторюючі голосі пішли нарешті, meaning "echoing voices gone at last". _Znovu poodyntsi_: знову поодинці, meaning "all alone again. God bless Google Translate! (and my sincerest apologies to any real Ukrainians out there, whose language I fear I may have just butchered).

Claire's playing the violin for no other reason than I will it to be so. As to why she's considering musical college, I have no fancy explanation other than the following: why not? We've established that Claire is really smart (in "Haunted", she took advanced classes where she learnt about neodymium alloys), so she's in a position to do what she wants in life. Just a random thought: does anyone think Annie would fit playing the drums? I suppose that's a bit too _Kids on the Slope_, so I'm not going to include it, but still: what's it like as a concept?

I'm just curious now as to whether you, the reader a) actually bothered to read this far into my superfluous note, and b) think Evan's an OC. I tried to give him a unique voice (which sounds stilted, even to me), but I can't shake the feeling that he's not in the canon, so I shouldn't have him. Still, I like the character I've made him into, so I'm gonna stick with it. But tell me your thought's, m'kay?

**YellowAngela:** Yeah, that does sound evil…on the other hand, at least you're having fun at work!

**FloatingPizza:** Thanks! The scientific jargon just kind of spews itself onto the page: I'm not entirely sure if it makes sense, but at least it's readable. Your encouragement is greatly appreciated, and I'm glad you like my plan of including everyone – it's kind of tough, but I've finally found a spot for Rombauer and Lanski, so that's cool then.

**TheWriterunknown:** I hope this chapter satisfied your expectations. I try to keep my characters consistent, but it gets tricky when they start arguing in my head.

**Lily. :** That was quite possibly the most encouraging thing anyone has said to me so far. Thank you, from the heart. By the way, I notice from your profile that you joined only recently – welcome to the Fanfiction community! I apologize, but your name, Lily(period)S(period)Richards simply refuses point-blank to enter itself onto the site. It consistently saves itself as Lily., with nothing else after it. Interesting problem, and I don't think I've ever encountered it. Any help from anyone would be appreciated.

And now, the poem. I made it extra-long, confusing and Inception-ish. Because _Code Geass_ deserves that. And because _[spoiler alert] _Lelouch Lamperouge is not dead (*whispers* _he's the cart driver!_). That's why.

_If I were Rex, and Rex were me,  
__I'd watch my show on a TV.  
__Laugh and cry and watch m'self dance,  
__A clichéd and tired ol' teen romance._

_-...-_

_Of course, _I say_, if he were me,  
__I realize he'd be quite free,  
__To type in words, and songs, and odes,  
__While cumbered in my small abode._

_-...-_

_So do you know if this is me?  
__Or is it true that I could be,  
__A teen whose powers let me swirl,  
__From off a screen, into this world?_

_-fin-_


	8. Incursion

**A/N** – Hope y'all had a great Thanksgiving! I know I did. In this update: more angsty what-not with Hunter. I'm sorry about the late update (see bottom of page for totally legit excuse), so I won't keep you away from the story one moment longer!

* * *

_Concurrently,  
__Corridor 3, Prison Lockup_

Hunter and Gatlocke moved rapidly through the doorway, finding the corridor beyond it empty. The duo walked stealthily through the abandoned hallways, ostensibly searching for the nearest exit. Hunter, however, had a much darker aim in mind.

_There's no power on the face of the earth that can make me leave this place before I finally finish this thing, once and for all_.

Using the blueprint he'd drawn up in his head based on his limited excursions through Providence beforehand, the revenge-crazed man followed the line in his head; the line that led straight down to the Providence cafeteria, where the party, and, perhaps more importantly (to Cain, at least), where Rex was.

Hunter's breathing steadied as he prepared himself for serious combat. Every one of his senses was sharpened to the utmost, and he attuned himself to the very air that he passed through. His muscles tensed beneath the tough fabric of his clothes, and his eyes roved everywhere in their sockets, taking in every inch of the peripheral view. The ski mask covered his face perfectly, and Hunter was secure behind the familiar material of the covering he wore.

The feel of his mask brought back memories…memories of a time so long ago that it seemed to be almost an entire lifetime ago. Before he'd gotten on the bad side of Providence and been thrown in prison. Far, far back – when he had stood between humanity and the encompassing darkness with nothing more than metal bullets and salty sweat.

Back then, things had been very different. The media had supported him, the people were behind him one hundred percent of the way, he'd had a private army prepared to follow him to the death, and he was incredibly close to fulfilling the oath he'd sworn.

_The assembled men clutched their weapons ferociously, waving them in the air as their leader appeared. Standing on an overturned vehicle, the man surveyed the crowd before him. Raised fists pumped in the sunlight as he posed before them, wielding his cannon, the cries of "Hunter! Hunter!" carrying to the camera lenses – glinting as they watched it all._

As he stalked down the stairs, ignoring his partner who was currently three yards ahead of him, calibrating his weapon and humming "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" under his breath, Hunter's thoughts moved from the fell past, to the future. What was left in an EVO-less world for a man who had committed himself to eradicating their kind from the planet? Hunter couldn't imagine. Maybe he could look into bounty hunting.

Unprompted, as though from a previous life, memories floated up from the depths of his mind. Memories of a time when he was happy as nothing but a simple construction worker, looking forward to the end of the day when he could go home for a slice of hot apple pie and a quick kiss on the cheek…

Of course, those light memories inevitably led to the black ones, the ones he had to actively force his mind away from. His eyes twitched involuntarily and he clenched his fingers spasmodically as he remembered what had happened to him; no: what had been done to him.

Ever since his wife had turned, Hunter had been studying EVOs exhaustively. He stalked them at night in the parks when they roamed in their packs, he studied flying Evos with a pair of binoculars; he even visited Kiev once, trekking to the edge of the hell-hole colloquially known as "The Bug Jar" to catch a glimpse of completely 'wild' EVOs.

He watched giant scorpions ferociously attack one another in the desert. He saw a white hyena the size of a wolf casually destroy a steel power pylon. He investigated a Hong Kong crime syndicate that put the Russian Mafia to shame. And through all this observation and classification, he came to his first overwhelming premise – All EVOs were naturally villainous. It was obvious, really: just looking at the news proved his point. Diane Farrah could always be counted upon to be spewing vituperative slurs against EVOs in general.

The second premise that Hunter had reached was that EVOs were a plague, a disease, a malady of the worst kind. Anyone who wasn't turned was going to be killed by them, and the only way to wipe out the infestation was the scorched earth policy – destroy them all, and make sure they stayed dead. Hunter threw himself heart and soul into his mission, burning with an undying hatred of all EVO-kind.

Feelings of festering hatred and anger were buried deep into his soul, coming to the surface when word came to him that Providence – Providence! The organization that had _killed_ his _wife_! – was using an EVO for a secret weapon. It was only rumor, but Hunter knew the truth. Then, when news had gotten out about the identity of the secret weapon in question, Hunter lost it.

It was the kid. The teenager. The one who'd been there…that day. The day that everything changed. That…freak…was responsible for the train wreck that was now Hunter's life, and now Providence was trying to say that he _protected_ people? No…he had to be killed. Someone had to put a stop to this madness, and Hunter Cain was willing to take the job.

* * *

It wasn't an easy road. Sometimes, he'd wake up in the middle of the night, unaccustomed to the vacuum by his side. He'd feel around the bed for his wife's comforting presence in a daze, then, when he'd woken up fully, remember why she wasn't there and crush the moisture that rose unbidden to his eyes. Times like these became so common that he'd taken to working late into the wee hours, falling asleep at his desk rather than go to his bed.

One night, he'd been working on a new weapon to take down Providence when he hit a roadblock. In his frenetic studies on the nanite-virus things, he'd discovered that they were tough buggers. Fairly indestructible, the data on them could not be wiped by magnets, most acids had no effect upon them, physical destruction of the tiny devices was so impractical as to be ridiculous, and even the principle of entropy didn't seem to apply to them!

In his trawling that night, though, he made a breakthrough. He managed to get his fingers on a copy of an obsolete video report from one of the earliest Providence trials conducted on the nanites themselves.

.

.

.

A middle-aged man wearing a lab coat, with immaculately combed hair and reflective glasses, appeared on the screen. A young assistant was standing behind him looking rather uncertain about something: she opened her mouth as though in protest, but said nothing and closed it again without saying anything. The man cleared his throat and straightened his tie. Looking directly into the camera, he began speaking in a nasal voice.

_Experiment number one hundred and thirty-two, the forty-sixth sample to be entirely deconstructed on a molecular level. Lead researcher, Doctor Fell, with Rebecca Holiday as assistant. The object of today's experiment will be attempting to formulate a cohesive map of the atomic structure of the nanites through complete disassociation. This experiment has been modified slightly, with the energy input being doubled from the last time, whi–._

_Which was twice the one before that, which was twice the one before _that_, and so on. Tell me, doctor, what's our electricity bill? _Holiday sniped as she walked by holding a clipboard.

_Silence! Only through the application of immense energy will the secrets of the nanite be revealed. Prep the sample for deconstruction, assistant!_

Holiday walked to the control panel, grumbling all the way, _I'm not your assistant, weirdo. Why do you keep calling me that? I have three PhDs, I'm clearly the smarter one here…darned psychopath_…She halted in front of the desktop and fiddled with the hem of her coat a bit nervously. _Ar- Are you sure this is the best thing to do? I mean, we could be learning about the creature as a whole, rather than just at the molecular level…_

Doctor Fell nodded impatiently. _We've discussed this, _assistant_. The Committee agrees with me on this, and I say we need more information on the nanite itself. If you have a problem with my methods, you are welcome to seek alternate avenues of employment at your earliest convenience._

Stymied, Holiday turned back to the keyboard. _OK, then…initializing molecular component breakdown. All sensors are prepped and the area is secure._

A look of intense, almost insane, joy flitted across the Doctor's face so quickly, Hunter wasn't sure he'd seen it until he played the clip back frame by frame. The man began murmuring under his breath, _The specimen is secured, radiation levels are acceptable, scanning devices are active…excellent. Disassociation reported a –_

Fell's words were cut off by an incredibly loud, piercing shriek. Excitedly, the scientist hastily stood up, fumbling furiously with something on the floor. The camera shook violently for a moment, before unsteadily turning around to reveal the deconstruction area, with Dr. Holiday standing outside it looking extremely uncomfortable with what was happening.

Hunter took in a sharp breath as he saw what was making the noise. Boxed in the chamber, frantically scurrying about for an opening was an infected thing: an EVO. Its mouth was enormous, taking up most of its body, which the teeth sticking out in front of it like knives, making for an imposing appearance. The creature scrabbled furiously about, bouncing from wall to wall like a pinball.

Doctor Holiday's voice rang out. _Sensors are reporting a 76% disassociation at the molecular level and rising. Threshold for molecular separation will be reached in approximately four seconds. The subject is oscillating rapidly in what would appear to be an indication of…ex-extreme pain._

As Hunter watched, the mutant shivered, in some form of severe distress. As Hunter was leaning closer to the screen to take a better look, it suddenly froze. A louder shrill than any that had come before resounded through the area; then, before Hunter's stunned eyes, the EVO…dissolved.

_Just like every other time_, Holiday mumbled to herself under her breath.

_Yes! Yes!_ the doctor crowed, watching his readouts flicker by, light glinting off his glasses. _We have one hundred percent breakdown! The micro-bots have been decomposed to its most basic elements! An overflow of energy is sufficient to damage the workings of the nanite enough to cause total failure and disintegration of the subject! With this data, I can take apart any nanite in the world! Do you hear me? I can take apart any nanite in the WORLD!"_

Holiday's voice cut in acidly. _Very nice, Doctor Fell, if our ultimate goal was destroying nanites. Now, how about we start working on a _cure_, instead of dissecting your 'spoiled meat'?_

Brought to sobriety by his co-worker's voice, Doctor Fell calmed a bit and set the camera down. _Yes, yes, of course. There's no need to worry. I just have to get a few more samples, and then we can reverse-engineer a cure from the data we've gathered._

_More samples? How many will it take to satisfy you?_

_Be quiet, girl. I hear that the squad from France has returned. And they've got that pesky arachnoid being that was causing such a fuss at the _Arc de Triomphe_. Once we've taken that specimen apart, we can consider working on a cure. Are you satisfied now?_

Silence, which Doctor Fell took to be a 'yes'.

_Excellent_. He turned back to the camera, still wearing that unsettling grin of his. _Recording is now concluded. Experiment number one hundred and thirty-two, with the forty-sixth sample, was a resounding succ–_

Hunter stopped the video. He studied the doctor's face as he exulted in his own perceived achievement. The man's eyes gleamed with a fanatical light, and Hunter spent a few moments just staring into the man's pupils, before turning the monitor off.

Hunter sat in the dark for some time, contemplating what he'd just heard.

_Take apart any nanite, eh? That could be useful._

* * *

From that moment on, Hunter worked to perfect his weapons system. After all, the EVOs had the clear advantage in this war: it was only natural that the humans be able to fight back in the best way possible. With these thoughts and others running through his head, Hunter continued working late each night.

After several weeks of poring over the data collected by Doctor Fell, he'd come to a vital conclusion. Like the doctor had said, overpowering the nanites could destroy them, although the power to do so was completely out of his reach. However, using the blueprints Fell had managed to retrieve from his many deconstruction experiments, Hunter was able to isolate the weak link in the system – the nanite power conduit. It was the weakest link in the entire construct, located at the foci of the nanite, and was the component that was most likely to fail. Hunter re-watched the video, paying close attention to the Doctor's words.

_An overflow of energy is sufficient to damage the workings of the nanite enough to cause total failure and disintegration of the subject._

Well, he couldn't just force the nanite conduit to short – that thing could take ludicrous amounts of electricity, meaning the Leyden jar bullet idea from _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ was a no-go. However, Hunter was not one to give up so easily.

After some more research, he came across low-wavelength electromagnetic radiation; or microwaves. While compressing a high-energy microwave into a single bullet was the work of several strenuous months, the end result was entirely worth it, as one round of ammunition could plow its way through several layers of nanite-infused tissue******.

Unfortunately, the sheer complexity of the bullet prevented it from being mass-produced. Nonetheless, he managed to factory out a small number – hand-made painstakingly by him and the crew. The small stockpile had been almost enough for the job: just a bit more, and he might have been able to wipe out that pest, Rex.

Of course, in the end the bullets simply hadn't been enough for the plan, and Hunter had wound up in prison. The irony of the situation was not lost upon him: betrayed by the very people he'd fought alongside to protect.

He'd kept a few of the bullets secreted about his person, just to be safe: in a hidden pocket, under his collar, generic places like that. Unfortunately, the vast majority of his microwave-ammunition had been spent, and was wrecked beyond salvaging.

* * *

The sounds of revelry grew louder. As the pair tip-toed nearer to the whoops and cheers, Hunter's mind snapped back to the here-and-now. Reminiscence could come later, now was the time to make sure there _was_ a later…outside of prison, of course. If they were discovered, he could reminisce all he liked in the darkest lockup Providence could dredge up. Finding that this idea did not appeal to him in the slightest, Hunter decided to save the reveries for later.

He crept to the door and crouched by it, peeping inside covertly. The handgrip of Hunter's cannon creaked painfully as the man's fist tightened upon it: he could see Rex. The freak was holding a piece of cake off-handedly, and seemed to be aiming it at a peacefully oblivious blond boy on the far side of the room.

All Hunter had to do to end the plague that had ravaged his planet for so long was reach over and shoot the kid, but it was out of the question. The crowd kept shifting so rapidly and mingling so freely that a straight shot was out of question. Besides, with that many eyes around, someone would probably see him before he could take the shot, ruining it all. Still, the sight of the last infected freak on the planet, literally within his grasp, was driving Hunter crazy. He was so close!

As time ticked by and the man waited for an opportunity to shoot the kid, his mind worked itself over anxiously. The pestilence that had been visited upon the world was almost eradicated, he was close, he was close…he just had to do this right and kill Rex.

Speaking of Rex, the boy in question appeared to be up to something. After having a furtive mumbled conversation with his chimpanzee, he looked somewhat guiltily at White's communication screen and touched a video screen, sending blue lines of nanites deep inside the system. Within a few seconds, White's head winked out as the screen went blank.

_What's going on? Why would Rex…cut communications?_

Hunter was nudged out of his bafflement by a whispered and inane comment from his partner regarding naming the mission "something like…Splinter! Yes! Operation Spli-" Hunter covered the idiot's mouth with a massive hand, gesturing to the interior of the room, which had suddenly fallen relatively silent. Risking another glance around the corner, Hunter was treated to an unusual sight – a primate lining up a row of cannons in a rather bizarre version of a 21-gun salute.

As Hunter watched, intrigued, the chimp turned and shouted something across the room about a "Grand Finale". He then pulled a fuse, and several massive bunches of confetti flew into the air with a sound of rushing air, floating gently back to the ground. This was followed by bursts of fruit juice, finely diced bananas, and even a load of cake.

The ceiling was completely covered in levels of goop, not that anybody cared. Hence, the only person that saw the red light blinking the alarm beneath half a layer of cake and some banana slices was Hunter, who decided that that was their cue to get moving.

"They must have re-wired the sound systems for the music; otherwise, the alarms would be blaring our location to the whole building," Hunter muttered to Gatlocke. The imbecile promptly got up and made as if to leave, twirling his cape merrily and mumbling something about 'dramatic exits'. Yanking the moron back down, Hunter stilled his breathing and steadied his cannon. The sub-sonic ammunition loaded into it would travel slower than the speed of sound, enabling them to take the shot quietly and pull out with no complications.

That was the plan, anyway.

"Aren't we leaving? I assumed that the light you pointed out was a warning and not a disco ball…hmm…a red flashing disco ball…definitely worth looking into…" Gatlocke rambled, taking notes on his cuff.

"Not just yet. I've got some unfinished business that needs taking care of," Hunter growled, flicking the scope on his rifle up and drawing a bead on Rex's forehead. He exhaled slowly, letting the tension seep out of his bones. Fully relaxed, he was just preparing to squeeze the trigger when he heard footsteps hurrying towards him, coming closer. Two voices, locked in hurried conversation, ran up the passage behind him.

Without a second thought, Hunter fired off a crack shot at Rex, swiveled and switched to automatic, spraying the area behind him with lead…

xxXxx

* * *

**A/N**: Is Rex dead? He may be, since he's not a terribly central character in this fic (in case you hadn't noticed that yet). Who's behind the intruders? What happened to _them_? Find out in the next edition! ****Boring Science Bit – skip if not interested**: Well, I needed an explanation for his "magic bullets" other than 'he's-the-villain-so-he-gets-away-with-it'. Obviously I needed a bit more than that, so I decided to do a bit of research. I concluded that microwaves would not need to be as high-powered as pure electricity for one simple reason: microwaves arc off of thin metal. Now (*_activate professor mode_*), if we assume that nanite shells (which are essential spheres) will bounce low-wavelength electromagnetic radiation, then they'll focus all the energy within themselves at the foci, frying the conduit wire completely! This will short out the whole nanite, destroying the EVO eventually. I know, I'm such a total otaku…

**Non-mind-numbingly-boring A/N**: Sorry this update's later than usual, but finding time to research microwave-arc-patterns is rather tough. Just thinking about what his bullets could have been was annoying – I cussed Man of Action out pretty thoroughly some of my sleepless nights. I'm trying to do a slow reveal of Hunter's past, and am currently feeling really sympathetic towards him, which is odd (to say the least).** Interesting statistics**: There are only **3** other stories with Hunter Cain as a main character (the villain of them all), **2** others with NoFace as one (in the role of unknown (that story's unfinished) and amnesiac), and only **1** other story (a one-shot called "For Better – But Mostly Worst" by melodicSiren) with both of them listed. Rather depressing stats. Maybe I just love villains…actually, check out my profile for a slightly more detailed definition of the kind of villains I like.

I admit it, the microwave bullets were partially from _Steins;Gate_, because that showed me precisely how awesome microwaves can be. See if you can catch the other, obvious, reference in the chapter. In cheerier news, Doctor Fell and Diane Farrah (kind of) have been officially included in my collection of characters. Sorry if this chapter was too science-y – I can't help trying to work things out, and I suppose that's carried over to my fanfiction.

**YellowAngela**: Thanks for the encouragement! It's honestly baffling to me how you manage to review absolutely everything I post. I just wanna let you know…I appreciate it! Heaps!

**theWriterunknown**: Thanks, and the same to your story (which I'm finding very interesting, by the way).

**Lily. **: Wow, what a long review…I'm touched! *_brushes tear from eye_* Thanks so much! That's definitely one of the nicest things I've heard about this story, and it's really great to hear that I'm making people smile. Imagine that…li'l ol' me…making people smile…it's like a dream come true! I agree: I can make the character who I want them to be. Of course, whether or not they'll still fit the story is a different matter entirely…Sorry about the name fiasco, but I think that it thinks that your ID is a website, which I can't post in my story.

**FloatingPizza**: I'm afraid I must insist…take a cookie! Take a hug! Take three hugs! Take my watermelon! Because you, my friend…that's right…you complimented my poem! Haha! *_fist pump_* Thanks for that. I agree with your assessment of OC's – it's important not to dump the information on the poor audience. Thanks for the advice, and I've edited up the "monkey" moniker mishaps, so that's all right too. Again, thanks so much for your detailed review.

Review if you liked it! Review if you didn't! Review if you don't care one way or the other - I wanna know!

* * *

And now, the poem. Because Rintarou Okabe was _Invictus_ till the end. Also 'cause Alphonse Elric gets his body back. And…a host of…other reasons…I guess…man, is it that late already?

_I wake, then eat, then jog to school,  
__In class I snooze, just unaware.  
__When woken up, I look a fool,  
__But running home, I do not care._

_-…-_

_For unlike those I call my friends,  
__I have a world beyond their ken.  
__A world where I am lord and king,  
__I'm free to shout and laugh and sing._

_-…-_

_Within this world, I am quite bold,  
__Though all in here is unforeseen.  
__For here are men with arms of gold,  
__And teenagers who're part machine._


	9. The Spark Ignites

xxXxx

_Three days, six hours and fourteen minutes after the New Event,  
__Abysus_

Van Kleiss was running on fumes, and he knew it. Any serious physical activity would totally drain the reserves of energy he'd so carefully conserved for the past few days. Unfortunately, the next phase of the plan made movement necessary, so he was just going to have to bear it.

Recent scans of nanite activity within himself had revealed that a good 80% of his nanites were currently in hibernation, taking only enough energy to maintain structural integrity. The remaining 20% were barely keeping his vital functions running.

He could barely rasp out the commands to Breach, telling her precisely what needed to be done. He could then only sit back and watch as the Pack moved into action. _Must conserve my energy._

"Biowulf…get the device ready."

Biowulf nodded to him before helping Skalamander maneuver the bulky piece of equipment to the center of the world, delicately avoiding the miscellaneous bundles of electronic parts lying around the room. After aligning it neatly in the clearest space that could be found, they set it down slowly.

"The device is in position, master, and the site is secure," the blue wolf reported briskly, rotating his wrists in relief after having put the machine down.

Van Kleiss nodded, only to halt abruptly as the EVO continued speaking.

"There is, however a slight problem. There does not appear to be a viable power source near this area, especially not after that…incident with the generators."

Skalamander shuffled his feet and mumbled awkwardly, knowing full well what was being referred to.

Van Kleiss smirked as he replied, waving one trembling hand deprecatingly, "Never fear, loyal right hand of mine. While it may seem that we have no power source available, I had never intended to use the generators as the primary power source. While they would have been useful in the short-term, eventually they would have given out. No, my friends, what we need is a more…permanent solution."

Groaning like an old man, Van Kleiss slowly levered himself to his feet, gingerly flexing his limbs as he prepared to get to work.

"Breach! I require a sizeable portal to any desert, although one in Africa would be preferable – the security is less stringent there, so we should be able to avoid any unnecessary confrontations."

Breach, confused, made her queries known, asking, "A desert? Why do you want to go there?"

Van Kleiss, though feeling his energy dripping away steadily, managed to muster a smile and say weakly, "It's a simple permanent source of energy. Pretty obvious, too. Of course, it's going to be hard getting it to reach another dimension entirely, but we should manage it. We, the last few EVOs on the planet, are going green."

The maniacal grin that accompanied this cryptic revelation did little to assuage the doubts raging about in Biowulf's mind.

* * *

_Three days, six hours and seventeen minutes after the New Event_,  
_The Tadrart Acacus, in the Ghat District of Libya_

Van Kleiss staggered across the scorching sand, shielding his eyes from the worst of the sun's glare. The grit beneath his feet was irritating his skin, but he endured the mild discomfort calmly, considering his next move carefully. _Can't run out of energy…_

Before him was a massive array of solar panels, quietly harnessing the sun's energy – a popular initiative ever since any sort of transportation had become a risky enterprise with EVOs prowling major road and train networks. This made conveying large amounts of fossil fuels, like gasoline and oil, extremely risky. The allure of having energy that simply required a cloudless day was enough for most people, and solar energy had become popular quickly.

Advances in technology meant that the new solar panels were capable of sucking energy from even the faintest slivers of light available – a fact that suited Van Kleiss just fine. Besides, the device didn't require too much energy to run if his calculations were all accurate.

Kleiss directed Biowulf to abstract a few dozen solar cells – they would hardly be missed among such large banks as were present here. The EVO nodded, and quickly collected around thirty, picking and choosing randomly.

Examining the small haul for any defects, Van Kleiss thought long and hard about each one. _A single flaw in any one of these could jeopardize the entire scheme_. Finally satisfied with his inspection, he nodded and signaled Breach for another portal.

"That's fine. Breach, a high mountain, if you please…

Tottering around, he stumbled blindly through the new portal the baffled EVO created. He was followed closely by Skalamander and Breach herself.

Biowulf hung back for a second – his sensors had detected something. _Is that…singing?_

He scanned the area carefully for the noise, until he saw a small group of nomads sheltering under a sand dune some distance away. They were a varied group, with children gamboling around a group of camels who were sedately chewing the sparse grass the ground gave up.

The noise that had caught the EVOs attention came from a small portable radio that the adults appeared to be crowded around. There was a festive air to the gathering, and Biowulf could detect scraps of tribal chants and prayers of thanks being offered. _Celebrating the end of the EVOs, no doubt._

Standing on top of the dune, backlit by the burning sun, Biowulf had caught the eye of one of the nomads who was taking a break from the party and gulping some water down quickly. _Is that…a man?_

The young man waved cheerily at the silhouetted figure who was observing the entire vista quietly. His sudden movements caught the attention of the other members of the group, and soon they were all looking at the stranger, gesturing for the mysterious man to come join them in their rejoicing.

Biowulf stayed behind for a second longer, looking at the smiling faces and grinning children. He then walked down the back of the dune and followed his master and comrades through the portal, which winked out after him.

* * *

_Three days, six hours and nineteen minutes after the New Event,  
__The Upper Himalayan Mountains_

The biting wind howled lustily as it rushed outside the freezing cave. Snowflakes flipped and danced in the air, and swathes of frozen water lashed anyone unfortunate enough to be caught outside in such ungodly weather. The small group huddled in the lee of the mountain, relatively sheltered from the worst of the elements.

The view was spectacular as they stood on the edge of the sheer cliff, a beautiful panoramic valley just visible through the ever-shifting snow. Biowulf could see the craggy rocks at the distant end of the dip in the earth, and could see the white drifts coating the ground far, far below.

Van Kleiss directed operations as best as he could – this was one of the most important parts of his plan. He could feel his power levels being sucked away by the wind as though through a straw, and knew he had to move fast.

"Biowulf, Skalamander, quickly: set up the cells. Breach, a pane of glass, if you would…"

The solar panels were hurriedly set up in the wind, sheltered under a roof of non-stick glass Breach had pulled from some remote dimension (Actually, it belonged to a tomato farmer in Florida, who was furious to find his crops ruined by rain the next day and baffled by the disappearance of his extremely expensive glass roof).

The super-efficient cells set to work, humming quietly as they collected energy from the weak sunlight filtering diffusely through the heavy cloud layer. The lanthanide doped silicon wafers pumped the energy they gathered into a nifty antenna.

This antenna converted the energy to an alternating electromagnetic field that was keyed specifically to the wavelength of the receiver connected to the device still in Greenville*****. Thus, this power plant would power the machine indefinitely, leaving it independent of local power sources. It was a neat combination of inductive charging and remote control, but Van Kleiss simply didn't have the energy to be proud of himself at the moment.

_Pity about the generator_, the golden-armed man thought hazily to himself. _If it had held up, we could have worried about all this _after_ the device had restored all the nanites and my energy…_

Van Kleiss examined the work. Satisfied that the structure would hold for the next month at the least, he turned his back on the mini-power plant and signaled Breach once more. A portal appeared behind him and swallowed the small group up, leaving some solar cells busily making electricity behind.

Biowulf stayed back for a moment again – his sensors had picked up something moving in the valley way down below. Peering over the edge carefully, he could barely make out hazy shapes morphing through the flurries battering him. His eyes whirred as they sharpened the image, allowing him to view the vista below with complete clarity.

There was a small village nestled by the rock face far below. The buildings had thatched roofs with cows and other livestock littered about, and there was a communal fire in the center of them all. Colorful cloths were fluttering in the wind, draped festively from all the rooftops.

It was a hive of activity, with women twirling wildly in colorful dresses and men singing barely discernible songs in their baritone voices. Children ran about chasing hoops freely about the clearing, as here too the humans celebrated the end of EVOs.

The blue wolf watched the shifting colors below musingly for a moment longer, then turned and followed his compatriots through the portal.

* * *

_Three days, six hours and twenty-eight minutes after the New Event,  
__Abysus_

Van Kleiss and the Pack emerged from the portal onto the barren wasteland that was now Abysus. The old place had fallen into complete disrepair: ever since the epic battle against Providence that had ended so catastrophically for the EVOs, nobody had bothered to clean up the hideous wreck that was now the castle. True, it had been a hideous wreck even before the battle: but at least it had been a wreck with dignity. _This…is just pitiful._

The leader stood for a while, gazing out at the ruins of his castle – only the basement remained in place, exposed to the elements since its roof had been torn off. The rest of the infrastructure lay in shattered pieces around the perimeter, a grim reminder of EVO-kind's last noble stand before being ultimately wiped out.

Van Kleiss hadn't been at the scene himself, being preoccupied with acting crazy and fooling the Black Knight. Nonetheless, after the fight he'd secretly watched all the combat records and read all the reports turned in. He was surprised to read that Rex had assisted in the fight back, but noted bitterly that the teenager had been the only EVO to escape un-collared that day. _Running like a rat as usual, Rex? How typical._

Van Kleiss led the loyal force – the last remaining remnant of his once massive army – to the basement of the castle. Once blocked off by a fascinating nanite barrier, the secret laboratory finally had its secrets laid bare – literally, seeing as its roof had been torn off bodily. In normal circumstances, Van Kleiss would have been tripping over his feet to get to the databases – the accumulated work of some of the most brilliant minds humanity had to offer.

However, his brain, while appreciating the content of the room, had no room for anything in his mind other than the overwhelming directive – go to sleep. He jumped the twenty-odd feet to the floor of the basement, stumbling upon his landing and clambering awkwardly back to his feet, fixing his attention on the ground.

The surface of the floor was jagged and uneven, with stray rocks bursting through the concrete slab that had formed the building's foundation at random intervals. But that wasn't what grabbed the exhausted scientist's wavering focus.

He could feel them. He could feel the dead nanite carcasses littering the soil, devoid of any activity. He briefly wished they were active so he could replenish his depleted power reserves.

Van Kleiss sighed heavily and lurched forward, moving almost drunkenly as his brain tried to convince him that his body should be asleep._ I can't keep this up for much longer_. He waved a hand in Breach's direction, prompting her into action.

A glowing portal opened in the floor in the center of the basement, bearing a large mass through it. As the Pack watched, Breach pulled Van Kleiss' _opus magnum_ from her private dimension, tossing it onto the ground in the middle of the ruined room.

The "Spark", he'd decided to call it: the tiny flame that would start Operation WildFire, the codename Kleiss had decided to give the entire operation. The scientist mused as his consciousness flickered, _How ironic. The Spark that lights the Wildfire that will consume the world in flames. Some poetic justice there, neh?_

Some of the other occupants in the room were feeling slightly more pragmatic at the moment. _It sure is heavy, name or no_, Biowulf thought sardonically. _And I sure hope it works, after all this hype._

Suddenly, Van Kleiss quavered like an aspen where he stood, body shaking from the lack of energy. _Is it too late? _He attempted to lift his gauntlet to check on it quickly, but found that it was dead at his side – he couldn't get it to raise itself. Eventually, feebly using his other arm as leverage, he managed to confirm what he'd known for a while: the ambient light had gone out entirely. _Oh, great._

He knew what that meant. _The nanites that my body need to consume have finally been depleted after all this time. My own body, weak as it is, will soon run out of energy, and I will enter a coma shortly; following which, if no nanites are absorbed by my body, my heart will simply stop pumping and I shall die._

Some small part of him that was slacking off from the task at hand knew that he should be terrified, but he simply couldn't muster the energy to feel such a strong emotion.

Knowing full well the urgency of the operation, Biowulf, Breach and Skalamander were all standing by, watching him carefully as he swayed on his feet. _Is this the end? After coming so close?_

"Satellite", the dark-haired scientist slurred. "Biowulf!"

The lieutenant stepped forward, masking his private unease under a covering of faithful subservience. Nonetheless, his inner mind was seething and roiling, as he conflicted with himself. On the one hand was his loyalty to Van Kleiss – and loyalty was the first item on his personal creed. However, his subconscious kept playing games with his rational intellect.

In vain he focused on his memories of being a young mutant, feared and hated by the human world. In vain he did he recall finally finding acceptance with the man standing before him and the EVOs alongside him. Rather, his traitorous mind kept flashing his psyche images of the disparate glances he had managed to catch of the rejoicing throng of humanity all over the planet. Rejoicing as they were freed at last from what they viewed as a malicious curse upon their land.

His sense of duty warred with this bizarre new feeling that stirred within him, causing him a raging headache. And all the while, singing nomads sat in the shade of his skull while women swirling in colored dresses danced behind his eyes, spinning madly and dazzling him with their brilliance.

"Biowulf," Van Kleiss rasped, closing his eyes to stave off the impending unconsciousness for a few more crucial seconds. "You must charge the device for –", he broke off here and emitted a bout of hacked coughs. The Pack looked on uneasily as their master gripped his haunches, striving valiantly to remain upright.

Kleiss slouched forward further, hunching on his knees, and continued: "For six minutes. Activate the reprogramming transmitter immediately after. Results should be immediate, but," Van Kleiss took a deep breath, "…I have eight, maybe nine minutes before oxygen supply to my brain fails and my neurons asphyxiate."

Biowulf nodded, acknowledging the unspoken plea to hurry, and erected the charging antenna in a few seconds, receiving a strong signal from the solar station posted in the Himalayas. The screen flickered as data flew across it, before a warning prompt appeared: _Connection established. Program mainframe has been entered. Nanite control: 100%. Prerequisites for reprogramming are now installing._

Across the globe, former EVOs felt twinges in odd places and, in some extreme cases, began hearing voices. Streams of code flew through processing units all over as a secondary program was installed upon every normal nanite in existence. Ready to re-ignite the flames of EVO-kinds dying embers.

A rare few of cured EVOs recognized the oncoming symptoms, but the vast majority were completely unprepared for what was coming and were hence blindsided. Those few who realized that they were turning back into EVOs once again reacted in various ways, one of which was rolling on the ground while screaming.

Once he finished speaking, Van Kleiss slowly fell backwards, finishing prone on the floor. Breach, being her usual taciturn self, fetched a lounge chair from some alternate dimension (or possibly Hawaii, where a sunbathing celebrator found her rump unpleasantly bruised moments later) and propped up their master on it. Skalamander, seeing that there was nothing he could do, began moving rubble off of the floor and tried to create a free space for councils and the like.

Biowulf stood by the Spark, staring unblinkingly at the charge monitor for the next five-and-a-half minutes, wrestling with himself all the while. _Charge levels 80%…85%…90%…_

When the Spark had charged itself completely, Biowulf reached over with no visible hesitation and pressed the 'activate' button, triggering Operation WildFire and unleashing the flames of chaos on the world once more.

xxXxx

* * *

**Note:** Sorry about the short chapter, but nothing else really needed to be said. However, (_*evil smirk*_) things are finally moving! Action at last! Ha ha! If anyone's interested, I have written a new Code Geass fanfiction for all you Code Geass fans out there who actually read Generator Rex stories (I can't be the only one, right?) – check it out if you've got time on your hands.

***Boring science note: **Inductive charging is essentially 'remote charging', and it's the next big thing (apparently). While we know absolutely nothing of Breach's alternate dimensions, we _do_ know that radio communication is possible when you're inside them, so energy waves can travel to them. We found out that radio waves can reach her dimension in Episode 8 "Breach" – Holiday and Rex were able to talk to each other even when Rex was in Breach's dollhouse. Now, inductive charging basically works by emitting a field of 'energy' (involving resonant inductive coils…which I'm not going into) that are picked by any device in range with a 'transmission coil', which lets them convert the energy back into useable form. Basically, Van Kleiss mashed this concept together with exclusive radio waves, so only _his_ device gets free energy from the solar plant in the Himalayas. That's VK for you…stingy as ever…

**YellowAngela**: Wow, you give me too much credit…but thanks anyway! Yes, Cain is a total psycho, but he _might_ have reasons. I'm going to look at the redemptive angle of the man for this fanfic – I _love_ redeemed villains! I can't do it for Van Kleiss, unfortunately, but he's _definitely_ not going to die. And don't worry, if 3 seasons couldn't kill off Rex there's no earthly way that I could.

**LilySRichards (excluding the periods in your name)**: Wow, there seems to be a veritable deluge of people liking my poems all of a sudden…thanks! I hope this update was worth the wait, and thanks for your continuous reviews! It's nice to know that I'm doing some things right, at least.

**theWriterunknown**: I feel for you, but unfortunately the fact that you are experiencing mixed feelings…simply means that I am doing my job. Thanks for reviewing, and I appreciate that you like Hunter (it's _so_ difficult to change the perception of a character – especially an established one like Hunter…).

And now…NOT a poem! Unless you count 'Invictus'…This is an omake that hit me in the face one night and wouldn't stop biting me. It was formerly going to involve Skuld the angel (from AMG) for the upgrades, but using Man of Action's own universe seemed so much better…

* * *

**OMAKE: The Wolf, the Crash, and the Galvanic Mechamorph (do NOT take this seriously) **

* * *

_Biowulf reached over and pressed the 'activate' button_…

The lone figure sat before the grave, clothes fluttering forlornly in the wind that swept over the barren wasteland that had once been Abysus.

The headstone was simple and crude, reading simply, "Van Kleiss, A Seeker of the Truth." And below that:

_In the fell clutch of circumstance,  
I have not winced nor cried aloud;  
__Under the bludgeonings of chance,  
my head is bloody but unbowed_."

It had been three months since the machine's failure, and all had left. Breach was leading a very successful career as an international criminal. Skalamander was much sought after as a prime producer of rare emeralds, and indeed was already starting his own jewelling empire. And Biowulf?

Biowulf was left before his master's tomb, alone with the ghosts of past memories. Alone to reminisce, and pay his respects to the man who had given him all and then fallen from on high.

_So many promises…_Biowulf silently waited before the epitaph, he knew not what for.

_What do I do now? What _can_ I do now? I'm just a freak in this world, with no option but to perish away. There's nothing left for me here._

_I'd just like to find an island in the middle of nowhere to stay on forever…_

Biowulf was roused from his introspective thoughts by a bright flash of light, followed by an incredible _*__**whump**__*_ noise from behind him. Turning rapidly, he saw what was easily the most interesting thing that had appeared in the last three months.

A vessel of some sort appeared to have come from nowhere and crashed into the broken ground, smoking as it lay in the crater it had blasted out. As Biowulf watched, the ship-thing opened a hole in its side, out of which poured billowing clouds of smoke.

Nothing came out, and Biowulf eventually began to wonder exactly what was happening inside the mysterious projectile. His super-sensitive ears, though, caught the sounds of irregular movement from within, as well as wheezing noises.

_Irregular movement…something's alive in there! But for how long? _Biowulf asked himself, passively watching the ship burn itself up. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of himself, and he went to go investigate.

"Umm…hello?" That was as far as the EVO got before a hand that seemed kind of clammy latched onto his wrists for dear life, hanging on with a vice-like grip.

Trying vainly to dislodge his unwanted freeloader, he fell backwards, dragging the leech attached to his wrist with him. The figure tumbled onto the rocky ground, lay still for a moment, then straightened and dusted itself off, mumbling to itself.

"Oh, that's just great…only halfway to the Theta Quadrant and the accursed thing's already broken. May the Fires of Orzoth consume that shady dealer I bought it from…"

Biowulf was lost. The…creature… looked like a cross between the Slenderman and a frog, with veins that looked suspiciously like Rex's work running along his body.

"Well, time to see what kind of wretched backwater I've landed myself on this time…Oh, hello! I didn't see you there. Were you the helpful life-form that helped me escape from the fire?"

Biowulf thought a bit, then nodded. "Uhh…that was me…I guess…"

He found his arm being pumped up and down by the garrulous creature as he chattered, "Much obliged, you know. Smoke plays havoc with my silicon interface circuits, and I fear that I was almost at the point of complete system failure when you considerately gave me some aid."

Biowulf, after a bit of struggle, managed to pry his arm back. He automatically said, "No problem. Umm…what are you?"

The creature was fixing his ship, _merging_ with the metal itself to put it back together as it kept talking good-naturedly, "I'm Baz-el: treasure hunter, black marketer and general scoundrel. I'm a Galvanic Mechamorph, from the moon of Galvan Prime, Galvan B. I'm incredibly grateful, you know. If only there was some way to repay you…"

The being ceased its insanely rapid repairs before snapping its fingers. "I know! My son needs to see the world, so I'll leave him here for some experience."

As Biowulf watched, the alien pulled a smaller version of itself from somewhere, talking non-stop all the while, "He'll be no trouble at all, and I'll be along to pick him up in a few millennia or so, so you don't need to worry about that…"

_No problems there_, thought Biowulf wryly, still not entirely sure what was happening. "Errm, who did you say you were, again?"

The being (Baz-el?) clambered into the cockpit, calling over its shoulder, "Sorry, old man, but I simply have to run. There's an auction on Mor' Otesi that I simply _must_ attend, so – ciao!"

And with that, the cockpit door slammed shut. A moment later, the ship's engines flared to life as the mysterious alien took off into the sky, vanishing as suddenly as he'd appeared.

And with that, the visitor from another realm was gone. Biowulf spent a whole minute looking up at the sky.

_What just happened?_

He snapped out of it when he felt something nuzzling his leg. He looked down sharply, only to find something wrapped around his foot making mewling noises.

_His son, eh? Looks more like a dog_. "So…can you do any tricks?"

The son didn't respond, merely looking back up at Biowulf with that cyclopean face of his.

"I guess not," Biowulf sighed. _Still, he's kind of cute…I guess…_

He reached one claw hand down to touch his new companion, who was purring contentedly. Suddenly, as soon as Biowulf made contact with his pet, the things _morphed_ onto his arm, completely coating the limb in an instant. A few seconds later, Biowulf's entire upper body was coated.

At first he panicked slightly. _Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, omigosh, I'm being eaten by a _dog_!_

Unable to stop it, he could only watch in horror as the wave of black slowly engulfed his head, covering his eyes with darkness for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, though, he found that he could see the outside world with far greater clarity than he'd ever been able to before.

He looked at his suddenly heavily built arms and flexed one experimentally. _Wow. What's going on?_ He then noticed something strapped to his back.

_Are these…wings?_

* * *

Several small countries of Europe were surprised early in the morning by a loud booming noise sounding through the atmosphere.

The few eyewitnesses who managed to catch a glimpse of the Unidentified Flying Object described it as "black and green", with one young child spreading her arms and describing it as a "flying wolf".

All military intervention by various organizations was met by highly advanced pulsar retaliation that completely immobilized all weaponry fired at it. The target's retaliation consisted of several extremely powerful laser beams that absolutely wrecked all who dared to stand in its path.

As far as the origin of the vessel itself was concerned, opinions were divided: some claimed that the green color was distinctly alien, and that the earth was being invaded by extraterrestrials at last. Others claimed that the Norse gods had awoken once more, and that Mjolnir had struck down Fenrir the Great Wolf from the sky. Whatever the case, all observers were agreed on one thing: it had been heading in the direction of the West Indies.

Several hours later, the Crump Island's only inhabitants, a rich family whose identity remains unknown to this day, found themselves summarily being kicked off of their own island. The intruder was fearsome, and summarily dispatched all the safety measures in place before emptying the villa and claiming it as his own.

* * *

Biowulf lay on his hammock in the shade, lazily scratching his friend between the ears while casually sipping a _pina colada_. The family that had lived here before had had a ludicrous amount of supplies: easily enough to last a single wolf several lifetimes of luxury and indolence.

_This is the life…_

His peaceful thoughts were cut short by a sound in the distance that became louder with each passing second.

_Helicopter blades…maybe it's the US Marines this time. Or could it be the coast guard? Anyway, it doesn't matter._

Slowly untangling himself from the hammock, Biowulf sighed, before whistling to his pet in an all-too-familiar gesture. "Come on, Ship. You know what time it is."

Nodding eagerly and chasing his tail, the creature jumped onto Biowulf and merged with him almost instantaneously.

Sighting through his enhanced vision and firing off a few warning missiles to keep the enemy off, Biowulf smiled.

"That's right, boy. It's Hybrid Time!"

xxXxx

* * *

**End Omake**


	10. The Tipping Point

**A/N**: Wow! I've finally broken the 1000 views barrier! Ironically, my Code Geass fanfiction did the same thing this week, but – whatever! Thanks to all the readers out there, and I hope I've made you smile!

**Important Note about omakes**: In the last chapter, I included an omake that seems to have thrown several people for a loop. Just to be clear – **Biowulf is not allied with Ship, Van Kleiss is alive, and Breach…well, she's probably an international criminal.** A short definition: Omakes are irrelevant (and irreverent) tangents included by the author for the purpose of humor. They are not to be taken seriously, and yes, you'll probably see some more later.

Sorry if this bored you, but there were some people who got a bit mixed up. My fault, really. Anyway, on to the story!

xxXxx

* * *

_A few minutes earlier,  
__Providence Headquarters_

Six was left staring at his phone in confusion. The call to White hadn't gone through for some reason. All he'd managed to get was an airheaded woman looping the same phrase: _We're sorry, but the number you have dialed is currently unavailable. We're sorry, but the number you have dialed…_

The ninja simply couldn't understand what was the matter with his connection. Even if one of the hubs was down, the Providence network had several independent towers to prevent exactly this type of communication breakdown. The only person capable of such an impressively coordinated failure was_…oh. _Well, if the kid was involved, it was no wonder everything was shot up so efficiently. _But why would he do something that ridiculous?_

After some quick thinking, Six came to the conclusion that BoBo must have cannibalized the communication systems for the party. _That would certainly explain where the disco ball and laser show had come from_. Rex seemed to have disabled the intercom screens as well – no doubt to keep Six away from the chimp's Grand Finale. Contacting White through them wasn't an option.

Rex must have disabled the communications himself – with his nanites, it'd be a piece of cake. Besides, it wouldn't have been the first time…_The young fool. Doesn't he know how risky shutting down all the comm systems is? Case in point: my current predicament._

When Six, scraping the bottom of the barrel for ways to alert White, punched the fire alarm, he wasn't really hoping for much. True to how the rest of his day had been going, a few red lights flashed pitifully, whirling weakly on the ceiling. However, the keening wail that was supposed to accompany the lights was conspicuously absent. The sprinklers in that section went on, but Six knew that the sprinkler systems were separate for each region – fires were fairly common, and when an experiment went wrong the whole building didn't want to get soaked.

Six cursed his luck silently. _The dratted chimp must have re-wired the whole sound system for his blasted music _– _the primate had even cut the alarm system for his blasted _tunes_. I need a remote communication panel – now, where to find one…_

The nearest fixed wireless com-link with White's office was on the other side of the building, and Hunter and Gatlocke were in the middle somewhere. Six didn't have many other options to call for reinforcements, and he knew it perfectly well. _Guess that means it's up to me again..._

He started running down the hall, followed closely by Evan. Having shared a cell block with the two escapees for quite a while, Evan had no illusions regarding the strength and intensity possessed by Hunter Cain. _If those psychos are on the roam, people could get hurt._

The duo ran silently down the twisted paths, working their way steadily towards Rex. Six was painfully aware that Hunter's main target at the moment was Rex, and the ninja's main priority right now was ensuring that the teen was safe from the convict.

Evan followed in Six's footsteps closely for a while, mirroring the ninja's every step. About halfway through the halls, however, he could feel _something _happening to him. He couldn't explain it exactly, it just seemed like there was some sort of code messing with his body. He didn't understand it himself – the sensation felt both foreign and native to his body at the same time, as though his very body were fighting with itself.

His head started pounding, and the blood rushing past his ears made him giddy. Everything he looked at seemed to be taking on a blush of crimson, and (although he couldn't see it), his retina was turning red as it was flooded by blood. His tendons corded on his arms as his muscles tensed involuntarily, spasming as the programming of his nanites was accessed.

_What's…going…on…?_

His thinking abilities were being stifled, and the thrill of the hunt was overtaking him. From a distance, as though through a dark red curtain, he could see his body and, to a certain extent, influence it, but he felt as though someone – or some_thing_ – else were in the driving seat. _I've felt this before…but when was that? What's happening?_

_And what are these infernal voices saying?_

* * *

Six continued running, unaware of the struggle taking place in the man running behind him. He noticed, however, when Evan slowed down and fell back several paces. He definitely noticed, moreover, when Evan stopped completely and bent over in half, breathing heavily.

_Oh, what perfect timing_. This was just fantastic. When he doesn't need to hustle, the man moves like lightning; but now that there's an actual emergency, he keels over and starts flopping like a landed fish. _I suppose I'd better give him a hand._

Six stopped and approached the trembling man carefully – experience had taught him to approach Evan with caution when the amnesiac was stressed – or, worse, angry. Unsure of what to do, Six looked around haphazardly for anything that could help him handle the trembling and potentially homicidal man currently squeezing his eyes shut and massaging his temples.

Six's spinning eyeballs locked onto a familiar looking stain on a wall a bit farther down the hall, and identified it – they were outside César's lab. Without a second thought, Six hauled Evan through the door.

It was a pretty average sight that greeted his eyes – Meechum was sweeping up some broken glass and mopping up a spill, while at the back Rhodes and César were hollering at the top of their lungs about some reaction or the other.

Rhodes snapped, "And I'm telling you for the last time, the molecules were homochiral before, and now they're all right-handed!" She said this as she waved some passports about wildly, belaboring the hapless César with them.

He weakly blustered in retaliation, saying, "But _I'm_ telling _you_, they were achiral before! Where did the homochirality come from? These aren't even organic compounds!"

Rhodes opened her mouth for another scathing remark, then caught sight of Six supporting Evan in the doorway. "Oh, hello, Agent Six. Is something the matter with Evan?"

"He's having another episode. I though perhaps one of you could look at him," Six answered, already fully aware of what the answer would be. After all, Evan's fits were common knowledge through Providence, but they were almost impossible to study because of their sheer unpredictability. This, naturally, meant that the geeks in the science department hadn't been able to actually analyze him during one of his episodes, despite their constant attempts to do so.

As expected, César leapt at the opportunity to observe Evan's "reversive state", as the brainiacs had termed his fits. Meechum and Rhodes, however, seemed to disagree with him on the advisability of harboring a super-strong out-of-control man in their lab, and their squabbling soon escalated into a full-on fight.

While the three "experts" argued away, Six scanned the lab for any sort of communication device. _Mango smoothie, hyper-electro magnet that could disassemble a tank from a kilometer away, holographic projector, neodymium alloy mini-chiller…_there! A radio uplink directly to White's office!

Six snatched the hand-held device and activated it. An image of White sitting at his desk drinking some milk flickered onto the small screen. The festive mood appeared to have affected him as well, as the man was wearing a red tie – quite a departure from his usual monochromatic mode of attire.

"Ah, César–" White began, stopping when he saw Six's serious face on the screen. His forehead wrinkled in confusion momentarily. "Six? What are you doing in César's lab?" White turned serious, setting the cup down abruptly. "Is there a problem?"

_I'll say there's a problem_, the cynical ninja thought to himself. Out loud, of course, his demeanor was much more professional.

"There's been a prison break." In brief, Six outlined the situation – Hunter had escaped, Evan was having a serious fit, and the alarm systems had been disabled by the wretched chimp. White cursed furiously and pounded his fist on his desk.

"We should have taken care of Hunter a long time ago. Now he's loose and bent on killing Rex, the most important person on the planet at this moment. This is completely unacceptable!" White ranted, repeatedly pounding his table with a clenched fist. He called down a bit as he considered their best plan of action.

"Let's see...Hunter needs to be taken out as quickly as possible. Six!" he barked, making up his mind. "I want you to take Hunter out permanently. I'm authorising you to commander any available operatives and eliminate him immediately," White declared, deciding that neutralization was really the best course of action in the current situation.

While Six agreed with Knight on the urgency of their mission, he couldn't help but be slightly amused upon the fact that White had finally begun seeing Rex as more of a personality than a tool. Considering White's deep-rooted hatred of all things ECO, such a radical shift was especially surprising. _The kid gets to all of us, I guess_.

Safe in his nanite-free fortress, The White Knight rubbed his forehead, wrinkling the bleached skin momentarily. Why was there always a catastrophe to be averted? Was it really too much to ask the monsters, terrorists and insane biker gangs to just leave him alone for a day? Why couldn't he just have a normal day?

White could barely remember normal: for the last four years, his life had been nothing but Providence – fighting maniacal villains for the fate of the world one minute, and trying to soothe a teenaged boy's injured feelings the next.

And you thought your job was tough.

Now White was in his most aggravating situation yet – Rex had shut off the cameras to the room, blocking him from seeing Bobo's "Grand Finale". His extensive network of Providence-wide communications had also been butchered for the party: that was still raving on heedlessly, just for the record. And while this bureaucratic nightmare was taking place, a homicidal maniac with little-to-no concern for his own personal safety was stalking through the building under everyone's noses! White sighed. _Just another day at the office_, he thought to himself as he stood up and walked to his suit.

* * *

Back at César's lab, Six dropped the phone and planned out his next move. _If communications are out for White, that probably means that they're out through the entire building…meaning I've got to take out Hunter by myself._

And Evan, he reminded himself. The man was lying flat on a medical exam table while César and Rhodes took samples from him while monitoring his vitals (Meechum, of course, was maintaining a safe distance).

"Fascinating..." César hummed, checking the readouts from one of his devices. "There appears to be a massive spike in nanite activity at the moment: possibly instigated by his fits. This is the first time I've seen evidence connecting emotions and nanite activation..."

Rhodes cut in here, querying, "Don't you feel that it's possible we've got it backwards?"

"How so?"

She carried on with her theory, postulating, "Maybe his nanites are what's being affected, and that's what's causing his mood swings!"

César considered her idea. "So, you think that there's an outside force that's messing with his nanites?" He considered the idea for a moment before shaking his head. "Now that's just a bit _too_ far-fetched, even for me."

Rhodes agreed. "Yeah, you're right. It was just a crazy thought I had. Forget I said anything."

Rex's brother turned back to his work contentedly, glad to have gotten that out of the way. "In that case, let's give the subject a shot of Nanite-Deactivation Serum version 4.73c, and send him off."

Meechum nodded and typed a command into the (repaired) Sample Collector, beaming with satisfaction when a large syringe was deposited in his hands. "Prepping for shot," he sang out, prepared to inject Evan with the clear fluid inside the vial.

Six, who was growing impatient, cut in here. "How long is this going to take?" he asked, masking the undercurrent of urgency in his voice. _Every second wasted here is a second that lets Hunter gets closer to killing Rex..._

César, as usual, was completely unperturbed by his surroundings. "We are about to lower his nanite activity significantly for around five minutes, after which he should have mastered his emotions. Of course, this theory assumes that his emotions are what's currently agitating his nanites so much, and that it's not some outside influence causing all this..."

Six had tuned out most of the speech, concluding that anything that didn't help him with Rex was basically useless information at the moment. "Just give him the shot already!"

César nodded to Meechum, who immediately plunged the needle into Evan's bloodstream.

* * *

Six watched uneasily as Evan's thrashings slowly died down. He slowly went closer to the former EVO, who appeared to be at least semi-aware at the moment.

'_Take any available operatives', he says_, Six thought to himself privately. _How generous of White_. Still, the're was no denying it: Evan was an interesting mystery, and there was no doubt that he had a knack for escaping life-and-death situations with nary a scratch.

"Evan," the ninja called, causing the blond man to start slightly before looking up.

"Yeah, Six?" he answered in a voice that seemed somehow…dead. Six quelled adding unease at the sound mercilessly.

_We can worry about his attitude later._ "Can you help me catch Hunter and Gatlocke? I need all the help I can get, and I can't contact reinforcements, so you're all I've got."

There was a moment of silence as the European considered his options. "Help stop Hunter, yes? Someone needs to halt him…and he _is _gunning for Rex…" the man muttered, doing some quick numbers in his head.

_Current situational handicap being calculated…finished. Odds of survival under normal circumstances: 98.7%._

_Download: 73.81% complete. Chances of loss of conscious bodily control upon download completion: 100.0%. Probability of survival in such an eventuality: Unknown._

_Final conclusion: Negative. Remain under medical supervision to prevent another potential episode._

"Sorry, Six. My gut tells me that I will not do well in combat for some reason, so I think it is best if I stand down for now," he said, perfectly blasé. Inside, however, he was a squirming mish-mash of emotions. _Download? What is downloading inside of me? And _loss of conscious bodily control_? What is the meaning of that?_

Six, as usual, was unsure of exactly what was happening behind the man's eyes. "So…you're not coming, then?"

Ignoring Six's voice, Evan continued thinking. _Could it be…I'm reverting? _

Watching Evan wrestle with himself, Six shrugged and turned to leave. He'd thought that this Evan person had been made of sterner stuff than this, but it seemed that he'd been wrong after all. Ah well, couldn't exactly blame the guy for freaking out: from what Six'd seen of the guy, he was a real pacifist who'd never asked for any of this.

"In that case, don't leave this room. It's going to get messy, and odds are that people are going to get killed. Better for you if you stay in a safe place," Six said as he turned to go.

As he was just opening the door, though, he heard a faint cry from behind him, weakly calling, "Wait!"

Bemused, the ninja half-turned to see a torn man sitting before him. Evan clutched his head furiously as he thought, arguing within his own head.

He ran the stats by himself one more time. Chances of survival if the mysterious download were unknown, so that was as good as useless. The odds of losing "conscious bodily control" upon the completion of the download had been 100.0%, and Evan knew that whatever a loss of bodily control meant, it was going to happen to him.

And that terrified him.

Unbidden, voices began to surface in his mind – not the mysterious voices streaming out code, but echoes of his friends...

_Who'd want to go to a college named _Tractor_?_

_I'm Rex Salazar. Rex to my friends._

_He's just some guy we bumped into, you know, walking around..._

_Have you met our newest member, Evan?_

_He's not _just some guy...

_You can call me Rex._

Evan's head snapped up. In the end, it turned out that he didn't need to use his special analytic skills to determine what to do, as it was all very simple and boiled down to a few sentences.

_Rex is my friend. I am Rex's friend. Rex is in danger. Why am I still standing still?_

Six was still standing in the doorway looking at him expectantly. Standing up slowly, Evan turned to face Rex's protector. "I'm coming with you," he declared, walking. For some reason, that simple statement drew a small smile from the normally stoic ninja.

Patting the European on the shoulder, Six turned and led the two of them hurriedly out of the room, leaving the scientists to continue working on unlocking the secrets of the Universe (while conveniently forgetting the necessities of the world around them).

As they sprinted towards the party, Six briefed Evan on their mission. It was fairly simple – they just had to locate Rex and keep him safe. After that, they could worry about raising the alarm and flushing out Hunter Cain. As they approached the party room, the two had to raise their voices to be heard over the ongoing hubbub, discussing plans and strategies to clear the entire building rapidly. Microseconds before they turned the final corner to the main room, Six heard a soft pop, rather like a cork being pulled from a champagne bottle as a tiny packet of lead was sent hurtling at a teenage boy's head.

The green-suited man's well-trained body realized what was happening before his mind could process it, and the agent pulled his blades out and stopped short, halting Evan with a sharply raised elbow.

The pair skidded to a stop milliseconds before a hail of death flattened itself against the wall in front of them.

As Six and Evan narrowly escaped several dozen bullets, their companion projectile was still headed another way – straight towards the Savior of the World.

The bullet that Hunter had fired at Rex floated almost lazily through the air, trailing a thin line of smoke. The bullet made no noise except for a quiet, high-pitched whistle as it sliced through the air. Nothing moved as the hollow point bullet looped down, arrowing towards Rex's forehead.

* * *

At that exact moment, on a different continent entirely, a blue wolf was agonizing with himself over a world-altering decision as his eyes danced and clapped before his skull.

* * *

Fortunately for our hero, Hunter had dropped his aim approximately half a degree when he'd been disturbed by Six, and the bullet lodged itself neatly in the wall behind Rex (who didn't even notice his narrow brush with death).

The bullet itself, of course, caused a fair amount of ruckus when it landed: shattering a punch bowl on the refreshment table and scaring Dr. Holiday (who had been serving herself a consolation glass when she couldn't find Six) several feet into the air and fairly out of her skin. It also stained her best lab coat. Permanently.

The effects of this were myriad. As wasted as they were (the fez-wearing primate had managed to smuggle a crate of champagne in, for Pete's sake!), everyone in the room knew the sound of a bullet crashing into a wall. Couple that sound with random items breaking around the room, and everybody subconsciously began searching for the threat while groping for cover.

Four years of constant warfare can do strange things to your head, but there's no doubt it comes in handy when you're under enemy fire with no warning whatsoever.

Captain Calan, the first to recover fully from the surprise, rapidly found the corridor that the shot had come from by working out the rough trajectory of the bullet from the point of impact. He correctly concluded that there were hostiles in Providence and ran up the stairs, followed by a squad of soldiers who'd volunteered to take the few rifles in the near vicinity to help him.

Dr. Holiday looked down at her ruined dress in shock for a few moments, before finding her sister and hiding her under a convenient nearby table. Before she could do so, however, matters quickly became a good deal more complicated.

When Rex saw the squad charging up the stairs, he hesitated for a few moments, then followed them, Punk Busters at the ready. He didn't know what was going on, but he suspected that that punch bowl shattering had been only the beginning of his problems. He sighed. _And it was going so well, too…_

BoBo, Kenwyn and Noah were similarly affected by the bullet, remaining in stasis for a few more seconds before galvanizing themselves into motion. BoBo slung his perpetually-present blasters off of his shoulders and looked across at Kenwyn, who was struggling to pull a Beretta Nano from her boots, cursing and mumbling as she stumbled about.

When she finally managed to finagle her weapon from her footwear, she straightened herself out. She looked up at BoBo and nodded. Together, they followed after the troops on point, leaving Noah behind to agonize over what to do, torn between discretion and, as it were, valor.

* * *

While all this was going on below, Six was dealing with his own problems in the hallway. Hunter Cain was desperate, heavily armed, and fiendishly intelligent. Gatlocke was the same, although he barely counted due to the obvious "insanity factor".

Meanwhile, Six soon found that he had to protect Evan as well, who had collapsed a few seconds earlier and was curled on the floor, mumbling disjointed phrases like "powering up" and "nanites…voices". As far as Six could tell, he was mostly unconscious, but that didn't stop him from being a liability.

Nonetheless, Six was not called "Six" for nothing. It would take a good many more handicaps to seriously worry the sixth most dangerous man on the planet. After a quick series of ripostes and parries, he managed to pin Gatlocke's cape to the wall with one of his blades, effectively disabling for the moment. The henchman lay there prone, cursing sporadically while trying to wrench himself loose.

Hunter Cain, though, was proving to be a more difficult proposition. The man seemed to have an unlimited supply of ammunition, and was preventing Six from getting to close quarters by warding the agent off with the gun barrel itself, which was built like a lead pipe. Six was kept at bay for some time, until Captain Calan's group of hastily armed soldiers came thundering up the passageway behind him.

"Prison break! Men, secure the area. I don' want to see the perps leave this area conscious! Take 'em down!"

Hunter was distracted for a crucial second, and Six decided to take a gamble. Weighing the distance between them, he switched his grip on the pommel and threw his katana like a javelin for the second time that day. The blade spun through the air for a few seconds, before spearing the gun barrel vertically and blocking the bullets' path. Six smirked to himself and moved in, prepared to take the Hunter down by old-fashion force.

_There's no way he can take me in hand-to-hand. I have him._

Unfortunately, that's when Evan collapsed and started screaming…

xxXxx

* * *

**A/N**: There really is no suspense here; we all know what's happening to Evan. Anyway, time to answer some reviews:

**YellowAngela**: Glad you liked the omake! And the mystery of what happened to Rex is solved here, I hope.

**FloatingPizza**: Thanks! As odd as it may sound, that line played through my own head for quite a while before I got it right. Nice to know it was appreciated!

**theWriterunknown**: Reference my earlier PM to you. Thanks for the review, and I hope any lingering problems regarding omakes were cleared up!

**LilySRichards** (yeah, I'm just going to call you that, if that's OK. Sorry…): Wow, people really care about Rex! Don't worry, like I said earlier: I can't kill him, I've actually named my story after him!

And now, a poem in honor of Christmas. It's fairly lengthy, but I liked it: it _is_ modeled on my favorite Christmas song, after all. Have a nice day!

* * *

**(sing to the tune of "We Three Kings")**

* * *

_(first verse)  
_We four troops who rule Providence,  
Do assert our full dominance.  
Primate, soldier, hothead, doctor,  
Defend the populace.

_(chorus)  
_Ohh-Ohh, slice them EVOs, dice them fine,  
Mince them into dust sublime,  
Chain them, free them, kill them, cure them,  
Just keep them all supine.

_(first verse)  
_Twin katanas of spinning death,  
Green-suit ninja's not out of breath.  
Dodging, lunging, leaping, plunging,  
Bringing his enemies death.

_(chorus)_

_(second verse)  
_Chimpanzee who calls the kid "chief",  
Mainly there for comic relief.  
Primate in action with no sanction,  
Hairy yet lovable thief.

_(chorus)_

_(third verse)  
_She's a doctor with a white vest,  
Left at base to keep up the nest.  
Trained in science; self-reliant,  
Easily one of the best.

_(chorus)_

_(fourth and final verse)  
_Teenaged drama in human form,  
Using fists like a whirling storm.  
Punching 'em down while acting the clown,  
Refuses to conform.

xxXxx


	11. The King's Crown

**A/N** – I'm not really happy with this chapter, and I'll probably re-write it sometime in the future, but it brings Van Kleiss back into the game, so I guess it'll do for now. _(sigh)_ Unsatisfied with self…

In other news: I recently had a **revelation**! This…is not really a funny story (shocking!), and I've recently discovered how much I love writing humor (citation: my _Code Geass_ fanfiction I posted recently, as well as the omake some time back). Anyway, I was inspired to start a completely new story solely for humor. Keeps your eyes peeled! It'll be villain-centric, as per my fixation with villains, and so may not be up to scratch by everyone's standards. But don't worry: I'll keep updating this regularly! Now, on to the story!

* * *

_Abysus,  
__Immediately after Operation WildFire_

_Biowulf leaned over and pressed the 'activate' button…_

The hodge-podge device's screen lit up as it flashed a few words quickly.

_Transferring final command codes…_

Around the planet, nanites chirped and quivered as the codes that had been so recently forced into their systems were coalesced, coming dangerously close to complete and total reversion as per the commands of the incoming messages. All it would take was a few more symbols of the streaming code and it would all come crashing down once more. The machine hummed as it rapidly spewed out strings of text wirelessly, striving to reprogram the programming of nanites the world over.

Biowulf stood for a moment, uncertain, with his hand still on the button. Nothing appeared to have happened after the button was pushed. No earth-shaking tremors or hordes of EVOs had appeared, and there was a noticeable lack of any dramatic changes. He looked up tentatively, unsure of what he would find.

The device's readout was merely flashing a steady '_please stand by_' as Biowulf watched. The screen refused to change, however, and Biowulf looked around the remains of the basement of their once glorious castle.

The ground was littered with debris of all sizes, and the once secluded laboratory looked as though it had been hit by a tornado: loose wires flopping out of ruined hard drives as ruined computer screens hung crookedly from the walls, cracks running along their formerly unblemished surfaces. In the middle, standing motionless before what appeared to be some sort of defunct central hub, were Breach and Skalamander.

His comrades were both looking very distraught in their own private ways. They may not have looked it on the outside, but Biowulf could tell that they were both at least concerned (a strong emotion for them); the object of their concern being the dark-haired man lying prone between them.

Van Kleiss was lying in exactly the same position Breach had left him in, with no change visible on the outside. Biowulf's scanners, however, were better than that and told the henchman the full story. Van Kleiss' body was slowly shutting down, starting with unnecessary body functions.

The sun shone weakly down on them, the computer screens were still blank, and Van Kleiss was slowly dying. Biowulf felt a twinge of panic strike him as the leader of all EVOs lay failing before him. He could barely contemplate a revolution without Van Kleiss, and yet it seemed that such a thing may well be about to happen.

Biowulf closed his eyes briefly, succumbing to an unusual wave of despair. His mental circuits were blank as he tried to take in the unbelievable idea that Van Kleiss, his infallible Master, was actually dying in front of the Pack.

_Was this how our glorious dream is doomed to end? Huddled in ignominious shame about our fallen leader?_

The emotionless machine stopped buzzing, clicking quietly as it completed its primary directive.

_Final command codes executing…executed._

A tree started twitching, creaking and groaning as the cellulose it was composed of was warped beyond recognition. Biowulf's head shot up, as did his companions'.

Before the Pack's very eyes, the roots that had been protruding from the wall began writhing simultaneously, like a can of recently opened worms. Breach, Biowulf and Skalamander, momentarily forgetting their Master's plight, climbed out of the lab and watched the barren landscape that was Abysus roil and ripple.

It was a truly awesome moment, one that would remain in their minds as a crowning moment of majesty, watching the EVO kingdom rebuild itself. Mounds of earth shifted up and down like waves in the sea as the myriad nanites present in the soil jerked and sparked their way back to re-activation, powering the land once more. Luscious trees sprang out of the soil, fountaining dirt in their wake. Ancient matriarchs of the forest grew and aged in moments, re-forming the verdant forest that once had surrounded Abysus. Vines and creepers hung in thick ropes from crooked branches above, and Biowulf could have sworn he heard birds singing somewhere.

The glory of Abysus had been restored at last.

* * *

Back at Providence, Evan was still screaming on the floor.

* * *

From all around them, huddled as they were outside the basement, rocks and structures burst out of the ground. Nanite-infused rubble flew as the formerly destroyed foundation re-emerged from the ground, and Biowulf watched as the castle was restored to its ruined old stature. Dust rose in clouds as chunks of stone climbed back to their precarious positions. Parapets formed and pathways coalesced, until the ancient edifice had been fully rebuilt – Van Kleiss' perennial base.

They found themselves standing directly under the grand entrance. They stood for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, as they took in the splendid sight before them. Walking in, as they had so many times before, the Pack slowly made their way to the lower levels.

In the tunnels below, the sun had been blotted out by the new ceiling. Emergency lights flickered on slowly, illuminating the scene. The Pack made their way through the maze of pipes and alleys till they reached the entrance to the lab; guarded no longer.

They strode in, and Biowulf took in the immaculate laboratory, marveling at how the formerly cluttered room had so quickly been transformed by Van Kleiss' power.

He heard movement from behind him, and turned to see Van Kleiss himself sitting up on his recliner, rubbing his forehead gently and wrinkling his forehead. His eyes were closed, and his muscles were all tensed, but at least the man was moving.

The Pack was relieved by this recovery, and Biowulf was ecstatic; although his mood was somewhat dampened by the recollection of the button he'd so recently pressed.

He ruthlessly annihilated such misgivings. _Master is well again, and that's all that matters._

As his subordinates watched, Van Kleiss dropped to one knee slowly, placing the palm of his gauntlet against the ground. The scientist kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, then opened them slowly. On his face was written the mad glee of a man who had just gambled everything on a single roll of the dice and had won.

His body appeared to have recuperated entirely – his breathing had steadied, and Biowulf's sensors read that his organ failure had stopped entirely, and that his heart was beating strongly again.

His gauntlet glowed like the rising sun itself as he re-established contact with the nanites of Abysus, once again the lifeblood of his body. His dark-brown eyes went golden momentarily as energy coursed through him, the power of Abysus flowing through his body.

Biowulf watched this metamorphosis rather placidly, thinking to himself that this was the second time he'd had to bring his master back from the dead. His mind, not focusing on the events before him, returned to the humans he'd seen celebrating their freedom from fear.

_From fear? No, they were freed from EVOs – they hate our kind! Locking us up, shunning us on sight: they were all just happy that we were gone. That's why they were all celebrating_. But another part of him wasn't so sure; a weak, sentimentally foolish part.

The wolf knew Providence hated EVOs, but his mind kept returning to the nomads in the desert and that tiny village in the Alps, where the humans had been celebrating joyfully with no worries or concerns. A few minutes ago, he had pushed a button that had plunged the planet back into its former state of panic and hatred. _Serves them right, hating us EVOs. They deserve everything that they get. _Still, Biowulf was disquieted, and remained so.

Van Kleiss finished "re-charging" himself with the nanites from the ground and straightened up, sighing in content while slouching lazily. He remained in that relaxed posture for a few seconds, then began snapping orders out like a machine.

"Skalamander – sort through the laboratory and salvage what equipment you can. See if you can save some of the central processing units from this mess. Also, check on our old sentry trees and see if they're still operational."

"Breach and Biowulf, why don't the two of you go recruiting? Our numbers must be rebuilt once more, I'm sure there are plenty of disillusioned souls out there who need some consolation and a family who understands, no? Be sure to offer that to them."

Biowulf nodded obediently, relieved at the opportunity to actually do something. He leapt into action, trying furiously to block out the incriminating voices sounding from the back of his mind.

Having finished assigning tasks to his underlings, Van Kleiss turned and began setting up a control hub in the center of the room, based upon the defunct systems in the formerly isolated lab. He could feel his vital systems regain strength and refresh themselves as the nanites from the soil of Abysus crept back into his system, fortifying and rejuvenating his body's tissues.

Once a basic command center had been set up, enabling communication from the laboratory, Van Kleiss collapsed back into the sun-bathing chair and closed his eyes.

_I really have had unwarranted luck, you know, _he mused to himself as he mentally tabulated his situation. _Everything worked out so perfectly, and now I've actually managed to crack into the old Nanite Project laboratory?_

He looked the central hub almost lovingly. _I have to decrypt the data on this old dinosaur as soon as possible. I should move the files onto more secure discs._

_A few more days_, he thought. _A few days to consolidate my power and observe the situation world-wide, and then I can make my move_.

_Just a few more days_.

xxXxx

* * *

_Providence HQ  
__Immediately after the Spark_

Six shifted his head fractionally to gain a view of Evan, who was writhing on the floor, clawing at the ground. His jaws were locked open, and he was screaming and howling unintelligibly, a keening shriek that cleaved the very air.

His screams were well remembered.

Inside the room, chaos was spreading rapidly. Captain Calan's noble charge up the stairs had been checked when he ran straight into Rex, whose eyes had been glowing blue. The teenager had been hunched over, moaning about _not feeling too hot_. A preliminary scan by a nearby scientist revealed that Rex's nanites were working overtime, and that the teen needed to offload as soon as possible.

The scientist couldn't tell what had triggered the increased activity, but a scan seemed to indicate that there was a tremendous amount of code being written within Rex's normal nanites, and an equally tremendous amount being re-written by his Omega nanite. No one had any idea what was wrong with him, and there were more pressing matters at hand either way – like the mysterious shooter in the hallway.

Rex was just regaining some degree of coherence when a crash sounded out from the back of the room. Upon inspection, it was found that Cricket, Walter, Circe and Tuck were rolling in the spilled punch, clawing at their faces and wriggling about frantically. The four teenagers were, unbeknownst to everyone in the room, undergoing exactly what Evan was at that point in time; albeit a bit more silently.

Holiday hurried over, and soon, with the help of a few grunts that had been roaming around making noises about a sick guy in Cell Block 3, managed to pin the former EVOs down and run her nanite scanner over their bodies. What she saw sent her scurrying for a computer, where, after a few minutes of roundly cursing Bobo and messing about with various wires, she managed to contact White.

"White! It's incredible! The nanites, they're –" She broke off here, staring at the empty block of space where White's head should have been in a rather puzzled fashion._ Where was White? What could he be doing at a time like this?_

White's figure clanked onto the screen, suited up and ready to go chase down some escaped prisoners. He stopped, though, when he saw Holiday on his screen. His first thought was that something had happened to Rex, and he reacted in an uncharacteristically 'caring' manner.

"Dr. Holiday! How's Rex? What's happened to him?" the man blurted out, sounding rather…_worried_? _Wow, never knew White_ _cared._

"Rex is fine, White, but we've got bigger problems." She angled the camera down to focus on the four teenagers, who were still twitching violently at intervals. They were being restrained crudely, their contortions straining the arms of the grunts holding them down.

Walter, in particular, seemed to be trying to reach up and tear his own face off.

White, who'd felt bizarrely relieved immediately after he'd heard Holiday say Rex was fine, felt his epinephrine levels jump up again at the unusual tableau laid out before him. "What's going on, Doctor? What's happening to these kid's? And why these kids in particular?" _Surely, it couldn't be…_

"This started around two minutes ago, right after an unknown assailant (who remains at large) shot the punch bowl and ruined my lab coat. These four went into convulsions simultaneously moments after that, and they haven't stopped since, although the intensity has fallen slightly. They were screaming, too, but that's died down since. We held them down after a struggle and I ran a quick scan. Nothing is certain yet, but I found some readings…" Holiday's voice trailed off as she surveyed her reasons, unsure suddenly of the wisdom of voicing this last factoid out loud.

White was no fool. He could see a pattern when there was one to find, and he had a fairly good idea of what was coming. Still, he needed someone to say it out loud, just to confirm his suspicions.

"What readings? What did you find?" Playing 'Devil's Advocate' while mentally preparing for the flames of war.

Holiday took a deep breath, holding it for a moment and releasing it slowly, before jumping into the details. "Their nanite levels…they're spiking."

She pulled up a live monitor and pointed to the stats displayed, elaborating further, "It's not just them, too. All the grunts' nanites are rebooting themselves, the nanites in the room's environment are, even my own nanites are starting themselves back up!" Silently, Holiday breathed a selfish prayer of thanks that Beverly, at least, appeared to be remaining perfectly normal, with no signs of…whatever was happening to these four.

She continued, "The proportion of active nanites to deactivated ones is thirty percent, and that number is simply increasing exponentially. Soon, every nanite in here will be active, and I have a feeling this phenomenon is world-wide."

A moment of silence followed this shattering statement as both White and Holiday contemplated the enormity of what was going on. It was broken by Holiday, who couldn't help but wonder why this was happening.

"I don't understand it; Rex just de-activated every nanite on the planet, so why are these _re_-activating?"

Knight reflexively schooled his face into complete impassivity, but inside he was deeply worried. Nanites re-activating? He'd been told that the meta-nanites had rendered all regular nanites completely impotent, but he'd apparently been misinformed. This was a disturbing development, and he absent-mindedly answered the Doctor's question honestly.

"I don't know. What'll happen to these four if their nanites all become fully activated?"

Holiday opened her mouth to answer, mildly surprised by White's unusually forthcoming reply, but was forestalled by a wrenching, guttural scream from Walter, who was nearest to the camera. Holiday hurried over to him with her scanner, keying commands in rapidly as she tried to determine what this newest problem was.

"He's fifty percent active…and his body is running a temperature of 101˚F." She bent over to feel his forehead to check the progress of his sudden fever. "His body functions are all looking normal, so I don't understand…" Holiday's voice stopped suddenly.

Walter's normally pasty-complexion had gone an unsettlingly familiar shade of mud green, and as she'd pushed back his hair she noticed that it seemed to have begun congealing together. An odd phenomenon, to be sure, and one that warranted further investigation.

But what stole her voice, what made her blanch, what made her knees go weak, what hit her viscerally in the gut and made her want to throw up; was what she saw on the young man's forehead.

"White…" she whispered, faltering back and clutching at the snack table for much-needed support. _Oh, please let this all be a bad dream! In a few minutes, I'm going to wake up in my bed, roll over, and go back to sleep…_

Of course, she couldn't wake up, leaving her trapped in this waking nightmare she'd fallen into.

White's chair creaked as he leaned in closer to the screen, studying whatever had shocked Holiday so. When he saw it, his eyes slitted and his nostrils flared. Then he leaned back, looking very old and very, very battle weary; increasingly conscious of an overpowering desire to cover his face quietly for a few moments. When at last the man spoke, it not in his usual tone. His voice was slow and somber, with a tired gravity permeating his inflection. It was the voice of the Leader of Providence, decreeing from on high:

"So. It begins once more."

Sprouting from Walter's forehead like a twisted, sick version of a king's crown was a squirming ring of tentacles, roiling and pulsing as they grew.

xxXxx

* * *

**A/N**: Well, at least things have finally gotten moving! Some people were getting worried, you know. I was _so_ bored setting everything up, but now I can get to work on Hunter's Redemption Arc, Biowulf's Betrayal Arc, and…well, the Everyone Else Arcs. Seriously, if you hadn't gathered from what I've written so far, I'm going to be focused on the 'bad guys'. That's just how I work (besides, they've been neglected so much in the stories I've read, it's passed the borders of 'coincidence' and is dancing around 'ludicrous').

**YellowAngela**: Honestly, I'm planning to keep the Van Kleiss/Hunter characters apart for most of the story. Really, Van Kleiss is oblivious to Hunter's existence, and Hunter would probably only want to kill VK 'cause he's an EVO. However, I am planning an epic showdown between the two. And now I think I've said too much.

**theWriterunknown**: Wow, enthusiastic! Thanks for the support – it's always nice to know that there's at least one person I've entertained.

**Lily**: Regarding the sensitive matter of Bobo sneaking the champagne into Providence: I am not currently at liberty to divulge the data surrounding that delicate affair, as it is still deemed classified, and is therefore for select ears only. I _can_, however, tell you that it involved the third-most creative use of pipe cleaners in the history of mankind, a pickup truck half out of gasoline, a guard who'd watched too much anime the night before, some steel rope, and the wildest night that the little town of Somerset had ever seen…

**FloatingPizza**: Wow, a prophet! Hunter is indeed going to have a Redemption Arc (note the capitalization), and it's going to be Awesome (again, note the capitalization) but it's going to take a while (and I mean _looooong_ while…). Glad you liked the song! It took forever to compose, but your appreciation makes it all worth it.

And now, a limerick.

* * *

No matter how wildly I chooses,  
I never can catch all my muses.  
Because they range free,  
They leave poor ol' me,  
Exposed to my readers' abuses!

xxXxx


	12. The Campaign Commences Anew

**A/N**: Phew…right before my deadline! That was close! See my Code if you're wondering what I'm talking about. In other news, don't worry about the three OCs in this chapter: they're unimportant, and really only serve as plot devices, so they don't have names and will not feature in this story in a major role.

That's out of the way now, so please read and enjoy!

* * *

_Providence HQ,  
__Ten seconds after the Spark_

When Evan fell to the ground and started twitching, Hunter just assumed that the man'd been hit in the knee by a stray shot, and was rolling on the ground in pain. Or maybe a nerve had been clipped and he was convulsing as a reflex action. Whatever the cause of the strange European's collapse, it no doubt had a similarly mundane explanation behind it – certainly nothing to worry about in the middle of a fight.

Then Evan opened his mouth, and all of Hunter's other thoughts promptly flew out the window.

_Those screams_…

Hunter remembered those screams well. How could he forget them, with his ears still ringing from the first time he'd heard them? The screams then, and every one since, had been as a knell in his ears, sounding the toll of his loss. Looming before him like an accusing spectre, Hunter saw dimly the flames that burned down his house, while the shrieks continued to echo in his ears…

Not being a very fanciful man, however, he refused point-blank to allow his mind to fade away into memories during the middle of a fight. Streams of adrenaline were coursing through his veins and, no matter how swamped by the emotions attached to that sound he was, he was fully aware that he was engaged in combat: where a careless slip could mean your life. Pushing aside his persistently lingering remembrances, all Hunter forced himself to receive from the noise for the moment was simple.

An EVO was forming, never mind that there were supposed to be none of them left alive. Hunter didn't know how or why, but one of those freaks was coming, timing be damned. He'd learnt a lot through his extensive study of EVO habits, and one of the common things he'd found among the rare instances when he was on hand when a human became…infected…was a crooning squall that began emanating from the victim's vocal cords. It varied from person to person, but it was an unmistakable indicator of an EVO's formation.

More than that: cruel experience had taught him that when the shrieking sang out, it was time to burn your bridges and prepare for some serious chaos.

The green-suited ninja had let his guard slip for a moment when he heard the terrible sound his prone partner was making, and Hunter seized his opportunity. He swung his rifle violently at the man, who appeared to be busy examining the screaming figure clawing at the floor (although the shades made it hard to tell). The impaled rifle, with a sword still stuck in the barrel, just missed Six, who had to throw himself bodily into the corner to escape.

While his adversary was thus preoccupied, Hunter managed to unpin Gatlocke and blaze around the corridor, hauling his partner along like a sack of potatoes. Then he was running for all he was worth away from Providence, away from Rex, and away from those screams.

As he ran, Hunter's mind worked furiously as he tested theories in his head. _What could be causing EVOs to form? Didn't the science-guys tell us that the plague was over?_ Hunter wasn't usually a theoretical physicist, but everyone's mind was on the nanites following the recent events, so he permitted himself to hypothesize as he ran. As he mulled over such heavy topics, he double-checked his ammo and safety, in case any more freaks were on the prowl already.

Hurtling round a sharp corner, Hunter found himself in a dank, dimly lit room that appeared to be a dead end. Glancing frenetically about, he saw a few bikes lying in the corner haphazardly. _A Providence garage_. Perfect.

Scuttling over to one of the overturned bikes, he jacked into the system hastily while Gatlocke took some simple explosives out of his cape. Hunter pointed at the metal door impatiently while revving the engine excessively. Gatlocke nodded eagerly and strode forward with his equipment, always glad to blow stuff up.

A few explosions later and the flimsy titanium door was reduced to scrap metal. He revved the engine, and the two were soon racing away from Providence on the bike, headed towards the nearest city. Along the way, Gatlocke absent-mindedly pried the tracker out from under the hood and tossed it into a nearby lake they zoomed by.

As they blitzed through the countryside, Gatlocke seemed unusually silent – a development that was entirely fine with his stolid comrade. Hunter had plenty of thinking to do as well. After all, it seemed as though, contrary to popular belief, the accursed nanite infection had yet to be excised fully. _If you want a job done right…_

After a few further minutes of blissfully silent travel, the duo encountered a tremendous logjam of traffic that snarled its ugly way several miles out of the city limits. The chatter and noise was incredible, and the traffic jam was only exacerbated by the drivers who simply got out of the vehicles and decided that walking would be faster. Cars lay abandoned by the roadside, warning lights blinking pathetically as people fell abruptly back into their worst nightmare.

Dazed, confused human beings groped their way through the whirling turmoil, trying to get somewhere, anywhere, away from this confusion. Little knots of people slowly made their way about the place, searching for something that had the answers; Answers to questions people never wanted to have to ask again. Their collective cries rose to the sky; a mindless babble of human beings ripped away from their foundations and wheeling desperately about for a solid point. Relatives frantically phoned each other, trying to see who had 'turned' and who was safe; while everywhere families huddled around one another, seeking comfort in one another's presence.

Weaving through the honking, blaring vehicles that crisscrossed the road and dodging around the hordes of trudging pedestrians, Hunter soon made his way into the city. There was smoke rising from the downtown area, and the streets were covered in rubble of various sorts. The place looked like it had been hit by an earthquake, and the inhabitants were no better: wandering around in the melee, they crawled out of destroyed houses and collapsed buildings like displaced ants.

The city was just like it had been after the first Nanite Event. Martial law lay over the region, with matters rapidly descending into a simple struggle for survival against the old menace that had reared its ugly head once more. Walls imploded and windows shattered as the newly created EVOs went careening through the city, leaving mayhem and destruction in their wake.

An incredible feeling of _déjà vu_ flowed through Hunter's body as he watched the whole catastrophe playing itself out before him like a broken record – EVOs were going on rampages again, and the humans were once again helpless in the face of such ungodly power.

Hunter found a dark alley that seemed relatively secluded from the general fracas, and wheeled into it. Sandwiched between two city blocks, it was your typical isolated dark street. There was the usual overflowing garbage heap in the background, dim light filtering through the exits on both sides, and the mandatory people that you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley, conveniently already occupying the aforementioned dark alley. The sound of the motorbike's engine reverberated loudly in the confined area, ringing in the pair's ears until Hunter cut the power.

After wheeling the bike to the dumpster and burying it as deep as possible in the pile of trash, Hunter and Gatlocke turned and stood staring at each other. They had both been aware that their alliance had been arranged solely for convenience, and now that they were free there was no need whatsoever for any continued amity between them. Harsh, but Hunter had learned the hard way that anyone could stab you in the back. Heck, he'd even stuck the knife himself in several people in the past.

_I hope he isn't seriously considering killing me to tie up his loose ends and make sure he gets away safely_. Lowering his center of gravity in preparation for combat, Hunter opened his mouth to speak; but Gatlocke cut him off. Seemingly oblivious to the tension hanging in the air, the bandit spoke with a swirl of his cape and a dramatic gesture.

Striking a noble pose, Gatlocke said, "It occurs to me that the time for our association seems perhaps to have concluded, however regrettable that may be. While the loot was good and the outcomes were optimal, I feel this is where we part ways. Though we had a good run, 'Gatlocke and the Kitty Cats' will now disband…forever."

The man looked at the general disorder surrounding them. Cars parked in the middle of the street, their drivers nowhere to be seen; while those who remained in their vehicles completely ignored traffic regulations, driving on sidewalks if it helped them move faster. Gatlocke took it all in, took in all the chaos and madness surrounding him, and smiled.

"I do believe that this city is in need of a good villain to terrorize it, and I'm the one to fill the vacancy! Me, Gatlocke the Great! The Grandiose! The…the…the Groovy! Gatlocke the Groovy has come, so bring out your valuables, then run for your lives!" Cue descent into maniacal laughter.

Hunter had tuned out Gatlocke's monologue halfway through, knowing that most of what the bandit said was complete slush. When his erstwhile partner's jabbering was little more than a faint buzzing in his ears, Hunter's attention was captivated by the shriek of a woman from the street. The cry of distress was followed by several animal snarls and howls that Hunter identified with little to no trouble. Gatlocke, however, looked towards the alley's exit, shrugged rather comfortably, and proceeded to walk off down the alley without another word, having concluded his speech and made his intentions clear.

Hunter's feet were glued to the ground however, and his heart was pounding. The blood was roaring through his ears, and the shouting and howling from the EVO around the corner did nothing to shift his body.

_Those screams…_

Though he'd never heard those particular screams before, within them he could hear an echo, a phantom moaning as a chill wind from his past blew down his spine. He felt a memory of agony, a specter that had been resurrected to haunt him once more.

His grip tightened on the butt of his weapon as he realized that right now, at this very moment, there was an EVO right around the corner. _I'll kill the freak…_

He vaguely became aware of Gatlocke speaking to him, and realized with a rush that the man appeared to be trying to make some sort of deal.

"What would you say if I offered you the chance to be part of the Dreadful Duo I have planned out, hmm? Does the proposition appeal to you? You could have the pick of the food, the shiniest weapons, the second-best car – obviously second best, because the best has to be mine – a relatively equal share of the money, shall we say, 60-40? Not a bad proposal, eh?"

Hunter mulled the prospect inside his head for roughly 2 milliseconds. _Is he serious about this? __Sorry buddy, I would just _love_ to take you up on that, but I've got bigger fish to fry_. He opened his mouth to emphatically decline, but Gatlocke broke in once more.

"Of course, you'll have to wear a _kabuki_ mask – can't have a sidekick with no cool signature physical appearance. Lose the ski mask, find a _kabuki_ mask…yes, I can see it now!" The lunatic made a wild gesture with his arms. "Gatlocke the Groovy and his Kabuki-ed Kicker of Side, Cain!

That settled it. _I can't hang around the city, I've got to regroup and assess the global situation before I _think_ of rampaging wildly with a maniac. I've never been the rampaging type, and I'm not going to start now. Besides…a _kabuki_ mask? _"Thanks, but no thanks," he said, shouldering his gun as he walked around the corner.

"I've got ghosts to put to rest."

* * *

Peeking around the edge of the building surreptitiously, Hunter surveyed the scene before him. The street he had emerged onto was brightly lit by the sun, and he had to shade his eyes a bit to take the scene in fully. Squinting his eyes against the sudden glare, he stepped into the street with his cannon at the ready when he saw what was going on.

On the other side of the street, a large, hulking EVO was looming over a man and his wife, both of whom were cowering against the remnants of a shattered concrete wall. It was a dark-bluish green color, and had eyes scattered on random parts of its body – the disgusting mutant. Its mouth was the predominant feature of its otherwise blank face, and stringy saliva dripped between the creature's pointed teeth as it advanced slowly on its trapped prey.

The man, a strapping specimen of humanity, was obviously terrified, but had still placed himself between the monster and his wife. He wore an orange construction jacket, and his arms were knotted and bulging with muscle. Still, in the face of this hideous strength he was confronted with, his eyes were bulging and his calloused hands were visibly shaking. The woman's face was white as chalk, and her hands were covering her mouth. They both looked as though they thoroughly expected to die.

Raising his massive cannon, Hunter cocked the hammer loudly, attracting the EVO's attention. Freezing in place, the beast turned slowly to face him head-on. A silence fell upon the street – the stillness before the storm. The couple had gone rigid, the monstrosity was sizing him up, and to Hunter time stood still.

He thought furiously, his eyes squinting behind his ski mask as his mind calculated risks and angles on the spur of the moment. He couldn't shoot the beast for fear of hitting the couple, but he needed to have a weapon trained on the thing before he could attack it. He aimed his gun with a well-practiced air, but as he looked through the scope he caught a glimpse of a smaller form crouching behind the couple. _A child?_

Hunter could barely make out the silhouette of a child – a young girl – cowering behind her mother's skirts, peering out at the nightmarish events transpiring before her. She was coated with a light dusting of concrete powder, and Hunter could barely make out her wide brown eyes soaking in the situation.

The spell was broken. Discounting Hunter as unimportant, the beast turned its attention back to the couple – no, trio – and took another menacing step forward towards them, mouth twisting in a cruel mockery of a grin. It raised its claws to attack, and the woman whimpered softly. Hunter prepared to take the shot, risks or no risks.

Suddenly, the burly father seemed to snap in the face of the threat posed to his family. With a maddened glint in his eyes and the tendons of his neck standing out, he charged towards the monster; sturdy feet pounding the concrete as he ate up the ground between him and his foe. Screaming incoherently, he drew a thick and corded arm back as he aimed a devastating blow at the creature that was menacing them all.

The force of the EVO's casual backhand knocked the man flying across the street, cart-wheeling through the air until he crashed jarringly into the base of a lamp post, where he lay immobile. His wife gave a wordless cry, and ran over to him. The little girl instinctively scampered after her mother, clutching her skirt hem for dear life. The EVO's head turned to follow the two, and it took a step towards the prone man.

In that moment, all the considerable rage and hatred that Hunter had towards the creature crystallized itself into a single action. He pulled the trigger.

The resulting blast knocked the EVO forcefully through the wall of the building, semi-collapsing it and half-burying it in the rubble. Hunter strode through the debris and smoke until he was standing in front of the EVO.

The creature was trapped, eyes half-lidded as it struggled to break free from the concrete that pinned it down. It managed to get one arm free, and was working on the other when Hunter lowered the barrel of his gun to its face. It froze completely, and looked at him with those unnatural eyes. Hunter grinned behind his mask.

"End of the line, freak." And then: _squeeze _went his finger, and _boom_ went the cannon.

* * *

Hunter clambered back out of the murky dust cloud the fallen building has raised, into the sunlit street. His clothes were stained with an easily identifiable liquid, soaking into his clothes. _Great. Shouldn't have been standing so close to it when I fired_.

Looking up, he glanced at the three people clustered around the lamp pole. The man was still lying on his face, but all his limbs seemed to be working and he didn't seem to be paralyzed. His wife was fussing over him, but the girl…was looking straight at Hunter.

She shifted to hide herself behind her mother almost unconsciously, and Hunter sighed mentally. He was fully aware of what he looked like to these people – a rogue fighter, coming and killing things with reckless abandon, stained with blood and gore from his kills. _Can't actually blame the kid_. Hunter turned to go, but was halted by a rasping voice that called to him.

"Wait," the man called, struggling to lever himself onto his elbows. "I have…have to…say…. Thank you, sir, for doing what…for doing what I couldn't. What I was too weak to do. I can't…I…I just couldn't…" The man's voice trailed off as he passed a hand over his eyes. His body shook as he was overcome momentarily by his emotions, then he seemed to pull himself together. He locked eyes with Hunter, and spoke in a voice choked with emotion but fired up with new-found spirit.

"I'll follow you. I'll go with you anywhere, mister. You saved my family, my daughter, and I can never repay you. Never. Please, sir, I owe you my family's life. It's the least I could do."

Hunter looked at the man, pondering. Then he began walking towards the small group steadily, thinking as he approached.

_Hmm…I could work with this. This is the chance for me to potentially restart my entire mission. Here I could found my army once more, and with the approval of the people behind me I could eradicate every nanite on the planet. I could finish my never-ending campaign at last…_

Lost in his thoughts and stratagems, he still didn't fail to notice the young girl cringing as he walked forward. _I could move on from the life of a fighter, and go do something else with my life…_

Stopping near the group, Hunter squatted by the man's body. He remained silent for a few seconds, calculating what to say, then seemed to reach a decision. He unslung his pack, opened it, and removed one of the Providence rifles he'd stolen from the lockup.

"My name is Hunter Cain. One day, I may call upon all men to stand against the EVO threat. To make a stand against this plague that's consuming our community. Until that time, though…"

He pressed the standard Providence-issue rifle into the construction worker's hands. The man looked down uncomprehendingly.

"Defend yourself. Defend your family. Stand strong, and rely on no one but yourself when fighting this menace. We defend ourselves and those close to us from the EVOs: it's both our right and our privilege to do so. If Providence will not help us, we must turn to the strength within ourselves."

A light came into the man's eyes as a newfound hope was kindled within his breast, and he gripped the rifle with a newfound conviction. "When you call for men, Mr. Cain, I'll be at the front of the line." He scrabbled at his ruined clothes, producing a pen and paper from a tattered pocket and writing something down hastily.

"Here. My number. Anytime you need something, whatever, just call. Doesn't matter when, doesn't matter where, I'll come running."

Hunter took the paper and stood up, dusting himself off. He smiled down at the family.

"Good luck, my friends."

Three pairs of eyes followed the lone figure as he walked down the broken road, into the sunlight. Two of them were admiring and awestruck, but Hunter was ill at ease; for while the adults' eyes had reflected gratitude, the little girl's face held something else entirely.

* * *

Throughout the rest of the day, Hunter continued roving through the city, avoiding the scattered Providence forces but constantly taking down EVOs. He caught a glimpse or two of a ragtag group of minions that appeared to be looting some empty shops, and assumed that Gatlocke hadn't wasted any time.

Hunter hadn't wasted it either – he'd received several more undying vows of loyalty from various men (and a few women, too) that he'd saved from EVOs, and was seriously considering restarting his army and continuing his never-ending quest to rid the world of the freaks.

Having cleared the majority of the inhabitants out and taking down most of the major EVO threats facing the city, Hunter felt entitled to a little relaxation time. He walked over to a quiet corner and rested his head against the wall.

Hunter's brow furrowed. Even now, the nagging voices continued to resonate through his head. One image in particular refused to leave him alone, coming back to dog his mind over and over again, no matter how much he tried to relax. It was the first kill of the day, right when he'd saved that family of three and gotten that family's phone number.

The little girl with the dirt-streaked dress and shining eyes had looked at Hunter, the avenging angel of humanity bent upon revenge, not as a savior; or indeed with anything remotely resembling gratitude.

Rather, her eyes, those gelatinous globes of expression and beguiling beauty, had been holding…_fear_. Fear not of the threatening EVO, but rather of the equally menacing slayer of the EVO.

She had been afraid of _him_.

xxXxx

* * *

**A/N**: Soooooo…I re-watched Endgame Pt. 2, and I know that I've already mentioned NoFace in the Bug Jar being weird, but I just have to say it again. When did he escape? Wasn't he caught by that impenetrable force-field thing Rex (somehow) magicked out of the nanite extraction chamber? When did he go free? Am I missing something?

And another thing (the real reason for this rant): I looked up his appearance, and it turns out that 'NoFace-cured' was actually brown-skinned, with dark hair and the whole Hispanic shebang (google "no face cured gen rex" to see a better picture…than the one I just painted…with my words…terribly…yeah, just look it up).

Needless to say, Man of Action's pointless insert of an absolutely unnecessary two-and-a-half-second segment of video with the potential to derail my _entire_, much beloved, Evan-character…will be completely disregarded. Yup, I'm ignoring the canon and keeping Evan as a European, which is shocking even for me (I'm feeling an overpowering need to go to confession…which is strange, because I'm not Catholic…). Forgive me this once?

Also, the shrieking. I figured that Hunter, with all his research and whatnot, could tell fairly quickly when an EVO was forming, and I have noticed that a good deal of the noises EVOs in the cartoon make are ridiculously similar; so I thought to myself – hey, why not?

I have a lot of fun writing descriptions. I mean, who _else_ do you know who calls eyes "gelatinous globes"? Seriously, I nearly scraped my _own_ eyes when I wrote that phrase down, and yet I just couldn't get rid of it.

**YellowAngela**: Thanks, but I really wanted to make the scene a lot more impactful, if you know what I mean. Seriously, this part of the story is a big deal – nanites reactivating, and all that. I wanted to really squelch the audience with the scope of it, but I'm not sure I encapsulated it well enough. Anyway, thanks again for the review, and I'm glad the tedious setup hasn't bored you.

**Guest/theWriterunknown**: Wow, I got two reviews for one! Thanks for the praise, and I'm relieved you liked the chapter. Unfortunately, my update speed will probably be restricted to about this pace – I'm reaching the end of my pre-written chapters, which means I'll have to start writing them out again, which will probably take time. Glad you like it, though!

**Lily**: Yes, Bobo and his shenanigans…I suddenly feel like I need to write a short story to explain it all…that's next on my to-do list, I suppose. Anyway, sorry to disappoint, but the explanation is coming in the next chapter over, not this one. Sorry, but I love switching viewpoints frequently, so the next one will be Providence-centric and will carry a full explanation of things.

**FloatingPizza**: Wow. I think that's the longest review I've heard from you yet. Not that I'm complaining, mind. I'm extremely flattered by your high opinion of my writing style, so thanks for that! Yeah, without giving _too_ much of the story away, I can safely say that…actually, I can't really say. Sorry, but I'm trying to keep the suspense going as long as possible. If you want to confirm your various 'headcanons', though, just drop me a PM and I'll happily give you a (short) outline of the possible team-ups. Again, thanks for your review! Update: Thanks for the proof-reading! The deadline apparently messed up my own skills, so thanks for being so detailed! Just a note - the Arnold Schwarzenegger guy is actually not my main OC, who shows up in the _next_ Hunter-centric update. Sorry for the confusion. See the A/N at the top of the page.

**Thereal13thfirewolf**: Wow, a new reviewer! I haven't had one of those since…wow, Chapter 6, wasn't it? Thanks for leaving a message, and I hope the rest of the story lives up to your expectations.

Again, sorry this was so late guys, but I'm totally burning the midnight oil on this end. Thanks for all your wonderful reviews – they really keep me going! As a reward, please accept this poem of gratitude (I don't even know why I write these. Ah, tradition, thou hath foiled me)…

_I'm bored to death of Math and Chem,  
__Yet forced to read and study them.  
__My parents do not let me write,  
__So please excuse my sorry plight._

xxXxx


	13. Just A Few Seconds

**A/N**: I have posted a companion (kind of) short story to this called "Bobo's Day Out". It's really just a joke-fic prompted by some reviewers of mine, so check it out if you've got some free time. It's not my finest work, but it explains a bit of the plot, and there's a slim chance it'll make you laugh.

This chapter would have been up earlier, but RL, a part-time job, and an encroaching fever have seriously pushed my schedule back several days. Sorry, but these things happen. If the quality of this chapter is lower, you know what to blame. Besides, angst is crazy tough to write, and I fear that I've mucked up royally (despite re-hashing the chapter at least six times).

Moving on: the middle part of this contains a lot of "science speak", and it's really just to tell you something you already know. It's not often I get to flex that human biology course I took last year in eleventh, alright? Everything in Holiday and Noah's part just confirms what you've probably guessed by now, so if you're bored by stuff like that, feel free to skip.

* * *

_Seven minutes, forty-four seconds after the Spark,  
__Providence Cafeteria_

It's funny how quickly things can change from good to bad. It could take years of hard work to achieve something truly great, and yet it all sloughed back to ruin in mere moments. A few seconds could shatter a priceless vase that had taken weeks of dedication to craft. A few seconds could burn a beautiful dress that had taken months of painstaking effort to stitch. A few seconds could ruin a perfect image of the world, dumping cold harsh reality over pleasant smoke and mirrors.

In merely four hundred and sixty-four seconds, White watched as the Providence cafeteria descended into chaos. Just a little under eight minutes after the shot had been fired, a blanket of thick tension had draped itself over the formerly jovial room, dousing any remaining cheer. Faces were dark as figures rushed about frantically, trying to make sense of the tangled web they'd been dumped into. It hadn't taken very long at all for things to spiral downward.

Holiday was working on analyzing the four afflicted teenagers, pinning their thrashing limbs to the table with the help of Noah and some grunts who'd wandered in to report an illness among the prisoners. They'd been immediately recruited to help keep the situation under control – things were far too dire to worry about some vomiting guy in Holding Cell 7. Moving the patients had proven to be far too much trouble, and sedating them was out of the question until a better understanding of their…condition…had been attained.

In this end, several of the sturdy cafeteria tables had been pulled out by the cafeteria staff, who'd seemed almost jaded to this kind of emergency. It was odd, but at the moment they were the calmest people there, helping arrange the desks into makeshift beds for the victims while mumbling something about "_being used to this kind of thing_". Holiday supervised the entire affair almost mechanically, setting up a mobile scanning center while the subjects were prepped for analysis in order to determine what was wrong.

Not that anyone who'd seen Squid's forehead had any doubts remaining as to what was going on.

White Knight watched this all expressionlessly from his office, his mind was racing at a furious rate. His eyes flickered across his desk as he took all in the data streaming before him. The numerous panels in front of him kept flashing images from around Providence, but several of his associates had directed his attention to incidents occurring within various cities around the globe, which he'd checked out immediately. What he'd seen hadn't been pretty at all.

People all over the world were undergoing similar experiences: screaming, rolling about, the works. White was internally trying to convince himself to write the whole thing off as a random epidemic of epilepsy, but the structures on Walter's forehead made that essentially impossible. Besides, epilepsy couldn't strike in epidemics; it wasn't even contagious.

Furthermore, another, more disturbing trend had made itself known to the observant man, who mulled it over reluctantly in his head. The implications of the conclusion he'd reached were ugly, and he wanted to double-check his results as many times as he feasibly could. Still, he was led inexorably to the same resolute fact.

Every single one of the EVOs who'd been cured by Rex due to the Second Nanite Event was currently in agony, and it didn't take a terribly logical mind to deduce the pattern. Evan was writhing on the floor just outside, the four teens were 'turning' once more, and no one else was affected in the slightest. Whatever was happening was influencing the former EVOs, and Walter's condition made it painfully obvious what the form their affliction had taken. But why would only EVO's cured by Rex be affected? That just didn't make any sense…

_What's going on here?_

If he were completely honest with himself, really and truly honest, White knew perfectly well what was going on. Nonetheless, the sheer repercussions of such an unforgiving reality forced him to seek a second opinion before throwing in the towel. Weakness had never been an integral part of his nature, but the shape of the world was changing before his eyes, in the span of a few seconds. He decided to interrogate the Doctor to see if his mind was right, one way or the other.

"Holiday, I need some answers. I can see what's happening outside, but only you can tell me what's going on inside their bodies." _Maybe I'm wrong after all. Maybe epilepsy really _could _happen as an epidemic, and maybe tentacles were just Walter's way of teenage rebellion_. White's overriding consciousness told him he was grasping at straws, but the light of hope, so recently allowed to blaze in his heart, would not be quelled so easily. The flame guttered and wavered, but refused to be snuffed until the darkness was complete.

Holiday, though, remained silent and refused to either affirm or crush White's fading hope; running around the room as she searched for any supplies she could use, however rudimentary they may be. White watched as the doctor continued working, spewing out orders to Noah and the grunts, heedless or uncaring of White's voice.

"Holiday! I need the facts! Just talk to me already!" White's voice was thickening, and a faint tinge of irritation was creeping into his appearance, desperate as he was for the truth. He had to be sure. Sure if the smoke and mirrors were really gone after all, or maybe if they'd ever really been there in the first place.

She continued working though, flying about the enclosure as she continued her work. White had rarely seen this level of fervor from the woman, and did not appreciate being baldly ignored in a time of crisis.

"Doctor! Answer me!"

The hassled doctor suddenly stopped her scurrying around the tables, wheeling abruptly to look at the monitor head-on. The man twitched slightly at the sudden shift in motion before recovering his composure and knitting his fingers together, drawing his eyebrows closer under his forehead.

Holiday locked eyes with his image, freezing White's premature anger dead in its tracks. The transformation of a few seconds was disturbing: gone was the professional woman. For now, however brief it may be, there was a raging inferno of questioning anger coursing through this woman. It may die down later, but just looking at her hopeless face effectively quenched the wavering candle-bloom of hope White harbored within himself. _She knows the truth, and it's all around her._

The Doctor's face looked eerily reminiscent of other visages White had seen at critical junctures through his military career. This woman was covering it up well, but in her eyes White could detect the same bestial howl of despair that he felt tearing through his own innards, howling and scraping as it rose to the surface. A screech cry of rage and anguish, questioning the flawless heavens, demanding an answer they did not contain. Wailing as the cycle began anew.

"Do you really want to know?"

A pause, poignant, as the words bounced around the dead room. White had no answer, and Holiday wasn't expecting one.

"Fine."

* * *

**Pointless Medical Rambling Ahead! **

* * *

"The outside influence that's affecting their nanites appears to be targeting all of us, although the effects are most visible in these four. The new occurrence seems to be focused upon neutralizing the new coding inserted by the meta-nanites, sending everything back to how it was before. Only EVOs cured by the Second Nanite Event will be affected then, as we can see before us. Basically, something is turning the clock back."

White watched patiently as she then began rattling off information regarding the conditions of each individual patient, consulting her clipboard frequently as she broke down their individual aliments.

"Walter's nanite activity is continuing to spike, and further permutations are appearing. His body is running abnormally low on calcium, cause unknown. Preliminary knife-edge scans seem to indicate that the calciferous concentration within his skeletal structure is increasing dramatically. A field nuclear bone scintigraphy revealed that his osteoclast activity is increasing sharply, while his osteoblasts are laying skeletal matrices in areas not commonly strengthened. His lungs also are sprouting a modified hypobranchial gland that appears to be capable of producing and secreting pure melanin at a copious rate, somewhat analogous to structures found in common cephalopods."

Noah, who'd been standing by the side wringing his hands, was blasted by this clinical diagnostic. It with growing trepidation, mixed with a momentary dazed caused by the sudden string of complicated words, that he listened to her fulmination, and it was only at the last sentence that he caught up with her stream of thought. _Common cephalopods…_"Cephalopods? But aren't those–"

Holiday continued as though Noah hadn't spoken. "Cricket's tendons are increasing their concentrations of the protein elastin, and her muscles are rearranging themselves. Her cell-to-mitochondria proportion has almost quadrupled, and her muscular myosin filaments have increased radius dramatically. Her knee joints have also calibrated themselves in a manner reminiscent of either a severe ACL ligament tear or a case of extreme lower body hypermobility."

Noah's studious mind, prepared for the stream of jargon, immediately set to work translated her medical terminology. _Elastin: a protein found mainly in cartilage and other springy materials. Muscular myosin filaments: muscle fibers. Severe ACL ligament tear: knee bent backwards. Extreme lower body hypermobility: Double-jointed…knees?_ Noah's head was spinning. What was the Doc saying?

The Doctor continued her report in a low monotone. "Circe is doing better than any of the others, but surface-deep X-rays reveal that her skull is changing its shape rapidly. Also, visible diagnostics have deduced that her facial muscles, notably the Zygomaticus Major and Minor pairs, are lengthening considerably. The structure of her jaw is also altering, allowing an unhinging of the lower mandible somewhat similar to existing systems found in sinuous reptilian templates; notably the boa constrictor family of South America."

His head spinning, Noah tried to decipher her anatomical references. _Let's see…the Zygomaticus muscles: largely responsible for cheek and lip movement. An unhinging of the lower jaw would allow her to open her mouth a good deal wider than most normal humans. So she's able to…_

The doctor continued listing out symptoms, breaking Noah's stream of thought off. "Tuck's extracellular matrix is displaying the ability to instantly bifurcate, with complete recombination of the ruptured cells possible at will. The melanocytes of his epidermis would appear to have vanished entirely, along with any melanin produced within the last few days. The mobile and regenerative abilities of his epidermal layer have shot up to roughly four thousand times greater than those of the average human, and the basal layer of his epidermis seems to have completely separated from his internal organs. Speaking of his insides, a miniature dimensional vortex appears to have formed in his interiors, and his major organ systems all seem to have vanished entirely."

Noah processed the information quietly. _Extracellular matrix: the portion of the skin that holds the body together? Man, wish I'd majored in Biology. Umm, basal layer: lowest layer of the skin. Yeah, that's right. Lowest layer of the skin. Melanocytes: produce melanin to color the skin. No melanin means…albino? Miniature dimensional vortex within his interior…is there even a biological explanation for that kind of phenomenon?_

The Doctor had stopped speaking as suddenly as she'd started, and was standing facing White in silence.

Knight took all the data in, feeling the sparks of hope flicker and die; only to be replaced with a familiar steely feeling. _Well, that clears _that_ up._ "Thank you, Doctor." The adamantine exterior of White remained unbroken, his fortitude once more in its customary position. And if the icy sheen of his determination seemed stark and cold in his heart, he merely shrugged it off.

In the brief space left after Holiday's report, Noah spoke up. Hesitantly inserting his own thoughts into the conversation, he asked, "Doc…Walter's bones, they're gaining density, right? And he's growing a modified hypobranchial gland capable of producing…pure melanin? Like…ink?"

No one spoke. No one moved. Nobody breathed, not even the grunts who'd been guarding the prison cells. The entire room was as still as a sepulcher. Holiday turned to face Noah with a face devoid of emotion but for her unguarded eyes.

Noah gulped as her gaze bore into him, but mustered enough courage to speak up again. "And Cricket…her muscles and tendons are strengthening, and her knees are…backwards?"

Holiday said nothing, maintaining her steadfast façade in the face of the facts. Her eyes, however, were saying what her mouth refused to.

Moving on, Noah continued. "Circe's face is changing shape, and her jaw and cheeks are capable of drastically reshaping themselves, correct? So…she can make her face change shape, correct?"

Her eyes were screaming.

Gaining steam, Noah pushed on. "And Tuck, you said his skin is able to…what, divide and rejoin now? And that his insides had disappeared, right?"

Holiday spoke at last, her tone brittle and clipped, letting some of her eyes' emotion seep to the surface. "What is your point exactly, Noah?"

Somewhat surprised by her acid response, Noah continued, "My point is, these traits…you know they're exactly like…I mean, you know…" Noah faltered, coming to a halt. He gestured pointlessly with his hands, trying to convey his meaning to the obdurate doctor without actually having to say anything.

"Go on, Noah. Say it," White prodded in an oddly soft tone of voice. Everyone in the room knew what was happening, but someone needed to say it out loud to make it real in their minds. Up until now, they'd all been functioning on adrenaline and years of experience; now they stood still and listened to the teenager's logical conclusions.

Noah, fortified by this unexpected support, forged ahead. "These traits! It's…it's…"

The door slammed open, revealing Captain Calan and Six, their faces screwed in pain, holding a man down between the two of them.

Noah was moving too fast to stop and kept going: "It's exactly like they're all transforming back into EVOs!"

* * *

Six cursed. Not delicately, not under his breath; no, Six was swearing his lungs out unabashedly, cutting loose with a string of invectives that would probably have made even the most seasoned veteran at Providence blush. Of course, they probably couldn't have heard him at the moment – heck, he could barely hear himself cussing over the sound of Evan's shrieks.

How had he let them escape? Unbelievable. The sixth most dangerous person on the entire planet had just been defeated by a weapon thrown as a last resort by an escaping convict – who'd been cornered like a rat, what's more. The fact only serve to deepen Six's nervous self-assessment. _I must be losing my edge. Have I really been out of the game for too long? Am I going soft?_

Six consoled himself quickly. _Of course, it's not all bad. There's no doubt that bad luck played a large part in this failure. I mean, what are the odds of Evan having a seizure at the exact instant I was vulnerable? Wait, how's Evan doing? And what _is_ that ungodly noise he's making?_

Mollified, Six turned to survey the melee of people cluttering the hallway. Rex was standing with both his giant fists cocked and ready in front of a small group of soldiers, including Captain Calan. He would have looked quite imposing and threatening were his appearance not undershot by the half-cocked party hat perched crookedly on his head, a remnant of the celebrations so rudely interrupted. Not to mention the juice staining his shirt and the confetti dusted on his jacket.

The chimp was perched on Kenwyn's shoulder, and seemed to be rather disappointed that he hadn't been able to shoot anything after all. He was swaying from side to side on his unorthodox mount, nearly causing the soldier to lose her balance and stumble backwards. The monkey appeared amused by this, and continued rocking back and forth until Captain Calan rapped him on the forehead smartly.

But, although Six took in this peripheral information almost automatically, what really grabbed his attention was the same spectacle everyone else was looking at on the floor. And who could blame them? The sight before them was certainly worth their attention.

Evan was rolling along the ground, screaming unintelligible strings of gibberish while staring wildly into the distance. Threads of saliva gobbed from his mouth as he began foaming at the mouth in his lunatic ravings, his teeth moving up and down furiously as he champed out noises. The words that made it out and could be understood were jumbled, not matching up to form a meaningful sentence.

Rex and Calan had started trying to hold the man down, but his constant thrashing was making it difficult to do so. His words were meaningless, incoherent constructions of syllables spewing from his mouth. Kenwyn Jones jammed a roll of cloth between his teeth, stifling his voice and reducing his howls to garbled whines and mumbles.

Six turned to the hallway Cain has scampered down, fully prepared to pursue the two criminals before they managed to escape. The mess in front of him could be ignored for a few minutes.

"Could you give us a hand here, Six? What the blazes is goin' on? Was that Hunter Cain back there? What's _he_ doin' here?" hollered Captain Calan, his voice barely audible over the incredible racket.

The agent adjusted his sunglasses and turned back to the corridor. The chase would have to wait, then. He spoke briskly into his communicator: "This is Agent Six. Lock down all exits from Providence base. Code 10-98, I repeat, code 10-98. Two hostiles on the loose. Every door is to be sealed." Having delayed Hunter somewhat, he turned back around. "What happened to the party?"

Kenwyn snapped up to attention as she answered, "Sir! Projectile from escaped prisoner's weapon shattered a punch bowl and embedded itself in the wall. Using probable trajectory analyses, the bullet was established to have originated within this passage. Forced entry upon the corridor revealed Hunter Cain, Gatlocke, Evan and you locked in combat, which was broken almost immediately by Evan's collapse and…auditory assault." She stopped and looked at Six expectantly.

Six sighed. Hunter was getting farther away, and Six had no doubt that locked doors wouldn't hold the man for more than a few minutes. Of course, before he could begin the hunt, he'd have to check on his partner. _The severity of his fits appears to have intensified. __How troublesome…_

The lazy ninja was yanked out of his private laments by a new sound, one that was heard beneath Evan's noise. As he cocked his head to determine the source, he found that he couldn't pin down the exact source. It didn't seem to be emanating from any one particular point, but seemed to be almost omnipresent. A sound that didn't quite come through his ears, but rather from…inside him?

On an intellectual level, Six knew what was talking, of course. He'd experienced this a few times before in the Bug Jar, after all. What had surprised him, however, was how such a thing could be now, after the Second Nanite Event and the curing of NoFace. _It can't be…_

On Six's other side, Rex screwed up his face as though in pain and started talking under his breath, inaudible through the smothered howls. "What? They're…back? But I…that's…I…"

The thrashing stopped suddenly and Evan's head shot up, cutting Rex's frenetic musings short. Body rigid as a plank and muscles locked in position, he opened his mouth with an ominous slowness. With eyes gazing at stars far away and his face racked into a mask of terror, he stated, with perfect clarity into the pin-drop silence that had fallen:

"I can hear them."

Within Six's consciousness, momentarily blindsided as it was by this impossibly disturbing statement, a monotonous and tinny voice began resounding. The voice somehow felt intensely sad, although there was little emotion detectable within the measure. It was a woman speaking, intoning some computer code strings regularly with no perceptible dips in cadence, although the connection itself crackled and wavered occasionally.

_Security has been breached. Integrity of data is not ab_–

_._

_._

_._

_C̨̢͖͇̝͓͉̙̞̅̈́̊̾̅̍͂͋͌̃͜om̛̥̥̝̙̿͐̊̌́͑͊͛͝ma̽̾́̊̔̈͆͠nd͉̣͕̖̤͚ ̞̹_ _ę̧̛͕̼̝̪̲͇̬̤̀̐͆̈͊̒͊̽͘ṛ̢̧̘̮͖̟̱̦̹̆̋͂̆͗͛̓̈̅̅r̡͍̘̜̺̰̹̹̭̒̔̒́̎̓͂̎̕̕͜o̧̬̗͈̠̠͒́̍̋r̡̬͍̼̘̫͕͚̗̻̋̾͛̓̉͊̀̓̐̕ deť͈̜͇̹̘̫̰̙̱͚̒̂͂́̂̐͋̉͝ē̥̹̮̝̱̠̻̟̫̤̓̐͒̇̇̓͛̉̕ç̞̼̱̉̌̋͗̇͒̎̃͝͠te̥̟̣̹̖͔d._

_._

_P͎̾r̺̿ȏ͜t̵̑͜o̴̙̐c̷̪o̶̤l̷̘ is fat̸̿a̷͝l̷͝ly __f̲̲̿l̲̲̿a̲̲̿w̲̲̿e̲̲̿d̲̲̿…switching to backup operating system._

The words stopped coming for an instant, before flowing back into his mind with renewed urgency.

_Foreign data stream incoming. New coding is being integrated. Internal energy levels rising. System unable to cope. Total failure imminent._

_Warning._

_Abort. Abort. Abort. Abort. Ab–_

_Stand by._

There was silence following this statement. Six was baffled. Were the nanites talking? And what was this about a "data stream incoming"? Coming from where? What was being aborted? What was going on? How did Evan get –

_Engage._

Voices began reverberating through Six's mind…_Pain…alone…They left us…alone…with this Pain…_Garbled words and phrases leaked into his head, though not through his ears.

The last time he'd heard this voice, someone had been talking through his nanites.

_They left us…left us…in Pain_…Six's confusion was only exacerbated when Evan began moaning deliriously out loud. His cries mingled discordantly with the voices in everyone's mind, rising in a cacophony of garbled noises and meaningless utterances.

"Six? Doc? Rex?"_ Not…again…_"Where am I?" _This agony…again…"_What is this place? Oh God…what's happening?" _We're alone…alone…_"Why can't I see?"_…again__…_

In between deciphering the dual threads of conversation and shaking his head to clear it, Six caught a glimpse of Evan's face as he rolled about. His frozen eyes were still focused on the distance, his face twisted into a rictus of horror and shock.

Though he was thrown off balance momentarily, Six mastered himself as soon as possible and took command of the situation. Within moments, he was rapping out commands and issuing orders through force of habit. "Kenwyn, Rex,Bobo – follow the fugitives and bring them back. Rex, you're on point: don't let them escape."

The teenager nodded and ran off down the hall, pursued hotly by Kenwyn and Bobo. The ninja turned to the Captain.

"Calan, Evan's fits appear to be getting more serious. We're taking him to the Doctor for immediate examination." If anyone had some answers, it was Holiday.

The Captain nodded, and slung one of Evan's twitching arms around his back. Six did the same on the other side, and together they strong-armed the struggling man back to the cafeteria, resisting his desperate writhings all the way.

Using a single booted foot, Six slammed the door open, letting the oppressive silence of the room flow out into the hallway. As he luxuriating in the blessed quiet, he just managed to hear the tail end of Noah's reasoning roll.

"It's exactly like they're all transforming back into EVOs!"

It was only took a few seconds for that to sink into the group standing in the corridor. Just a few, brief seconds for the smoke to dissipate and the mirrors to shatter.

"W-What?"

* * *

**A/N**: Well, Holiday's under a good deal of stress, eh? I modeled her behavior off of portions of "The Swarm" (where it's shown she's irritable when under pressure) and the rest of the series (where…you know, she's a brainiac). Maybe it's OOC, but at the moment I'm just glad I'm done with this angsty chapter. That's all. Shout out if you caught the (extremely subtle) nod to _Naruto_'s Shikamaru - the lazy ninja. Moving on to some replies:

**YellowAngela**: Thanks for the cookies! Yeah, I'm looking forward to writing Cain's parts.

**FloatingPizza**: Wow, that was an impressively lengthy review! I love English, and playing with words is just so much fun! Thanks for the helpful advice, and please feel free to PM me if you ever want to verify your prophetic prowess.

**Guest**: Meh, this is totally not focused on Rex. Sorry, but his character's just kinda…one-dimensional. Mouthy teen who overcomes anything in his path with a team of determined friends – sounds like Naruto, One Piece, and a bunch of other manga and stuff. That's been hashed out. The villains are so much more exciting! It's your prerogative and privilege to disagree with me, of course, but thanks for the review nonetheless!

**Lily**: Yeah: the Heroes of Olympus series comes to mind immediately as far as viewpoint switches go. I hate holes in the canon, but filling them in really lets you perform some mental gymnastics. Thanks for the kind words!

**theWriterunknown**: Hmm, it's good to know I'm keeping some readers on the edge of their seats! Hunter Cain is a truly deviously complex character, and un-peeling his shell is a lot of fun for me as a writer. Thanks for the review, and hang in there! The setup is done, and the action has officially commenced.

**jbadillodavila**: I've never actually gotten a one-word review before, but considering that that's one word more than what you've got written on your profile, I suppose I should feel flattered by your (apparently) out-of-character verbosity. So, thanks for the review!

And that's it! The poem is a haiku (recycling is good, so don't whine). It's kind of mope-ish, but venting is healthful for the soul.

_I am so dead beat,  
__Part-time job was bad plan,  
__I can't take this load._

xxXxx


	14. True Despair

** A/N**: Writing this chapter was…interesting, to say the least. Is it wrong to feel depressed over something you wrote on your own? Man…I need to write a humorous story…soon…This chapter really cut it close to the deadline, but I'm still proud of it.

Important aside: Kwon is not important to the story. At all. That statement sounds nonsensical now, at the beginning, but it makes sense at the end of the chapter.

* * *

_**There can be no true despair without hope.  
**_-Bane, _The Dark Knight Rises_

_One day, two hours and eleven minutes after the Spark,  
__Hong Kong_

The form staggered haphazardly through the trash littering the street. With trembling legs and uneven breath, he forced his limbs to keep moving down the road. Looking out through hooded and shadowed eyes, he took in the bleak panorama surrounding him.

Hong Kong. The city was usually lit up brilliantly with countless headlights from flashing cars, or from the multi-paneled windows of the towering skyscrapers. The air would be filled with the crescendo of the cacophony caused by innumerable cars rushing past each other as the throbbing heart of the city beat even as the sun had gone down. There was no doubt about it; this was not the Hong Kong that he'd known all his life. _Shouldn't be surprised, I guess_, he thought morosely to himself. _Everything else has gone down in flames; hardly unusual for the nightlife to have done the same._

The city had descended into relentless chaos after the resurgence of EVOs. With monsters roaming the streets once more, the usually bustling nightlife of the city was nowhere to be found. Plastic wrappers rustled gently along the tiled walkways as the citizens retreated to their homes for the night. Even the police refused to patrol their usual circuits, responding only to direct calls for help. Within moments of the sun's setting, the only people to be seen were either homeless bums hunting up a niche to shelter in…or the beings everyone was sheltering from.

Through this wasted remnant of a metropolis, the figure weaved crookedly down the damp alleys, clawing at his face and moaning quietly. He kept up a steady stream of plaintive whines under his breath, bumping into trash bins and brick walls with no concern whatsoever. A casual spectator would almost certainly have written him off as just another strung-out junkie, craving for his next fix.

Almost. Even the most cursory of once-overs, however, could snag some telling features that told of far more disturbing things taking place just below the surface. Things that weren't quite…normal.

For instance, just a glance could deduce that the hands clawing at the being's face were not your usual mundane assemblages of flesh and blood, but rather seemed to be rippling under the skin, almost like waves in the sea. Moreover, the ringing moans the creature was making were not the cries of a drunkard's ramblings. Had Hunter Cain been present, he would have immediately corrected the observer, pointing out the unique wail and keening undertones that lay in the sound.

But the most telling characteristic, the one that indisputably culled this specimen from the regular crop of late-night lurkers, was the aura emanating from his body. Rather than the typical attitude of jocularity and/or wariness to be found among most early morning revelers; this specimen had an attitude of sorrow and anguish to his step. The slump of his shoulders, the crook of his neck, the convulsions of his fingers, the heavy tread of his feet: the anguish he was emitting was almost palpable. A typical observer would have crossed to the other side of the street in a hurry, before crossing themselves for safety's sake.

Tilting his head back to look into the starry sky, he screamed; an ululating cry of tormented misery hurled to the frigid canopy far above him. Echoing off of the faceless buildings and frigid concrete, the echoes ricocheted off one another, merging and melding to form a hopeless wail of abandoned misery that bounced from the heavens.

In the shadows, a blue wolf started moving.

* * *

Kwon couldn't understand it. Just over a day ago, his life had been happy once more for the first time that he could remember for a long, long time. After over seven years of living in pure, unadulterated hell, he'd finally seen a faint glimmer of hope in the shadows.

_My family had welcomed me back into the fold…_

He couldn't count the number of times he'd dreamt of going home over the past seven years. The vision of his warm hearth and smiling parents had kept Kwon going through many a cold winter, when pickings were slim and he'd felt like simply giving up.

_My old school buddies had finally gotten over their worries… _

People he hadn't seen ever since he'd dropped out of school were coming up to him and asking, "Do you remember me? I'm that guy, the one who'd always…" It was a nice feeling; having people come up and talk to him willingly, without cringing in fear. They'd been planning on going bowling as a group that weekend, to do some 'catching up'.

_The police had stopped chasing me…_

The newspaperman had said that no charges were being pushed against EVOs who were forced into a life of crime by circumstances. After living on the run for a good deal of time, Kwon still felt a bit jumpy whenever he saw a police cruiser ride by. Although he could understand their motivations and reasons, he wasn't sure if he'd ever feel comfortable around a police officer again now that he'd been on the wrong end of their protective jurisdiction.

_Nobody had called me a freak…_

He was still getting used to being able to walk down the street without having mothers clutch their babies and burly men growl insults his direction. The lack of any negativity from people who saw his face was frankly staggering, and was almost intoxicating for a teenager who'd spent tremendous amounts of effort trying to hide his face in public.

_There'd been no attempts on my life…_

After skulking in the shadows watching his back every hour of the day, it was odd to find that there truly was nobody stalking him now; and that man holding the large knife was just making sushi, not trying to eradicate a "filthy EVO". He'd calmed down over the last few days, and had stopped jumping at every shadow, finally secure in the knowledge that there would be no crusaders for peace trying to kill him tonight.

_I could stand to look at myself in a mirror…_

After years of religiously avoiding anything vaguely resembling a mirror, he found it revelatory to no longer have to keep the vision of his own body from his eyes. For the first time in seven years, he could see his own face with no feeling of revulsion or disgust. It was an enjoyable experience, to be sure, and he'd spent over an hour in the bathroom, just studying his normal form. He could almost feel his protrusions, once so prominently placed upon his head, as phantasmic weights pulling his head down. He'd gotten into the habit of running a hand over his forehead once every few minutes, just to remind himself that it wasn't a dream, and that he really had been cured.

_Everything had been going so well…_

Kwon could still remember the euphoria that had overtaken him when the Blue Wave (they were calling it the Second Nanite Event, or the Worldwide Cure, apparently) had healed him – he was finally free! He had burst into his family's home, hugged his mother and father, called on all his old friends. It was like he'd never been away, and everyone seemed to welcome him back into the fold.

The government, in the joyous pandemonium that seemed to have engulfed the entire nation, had offered generous subsidies and scholarships to all and sundry who'd been cured. Colleges sent him letters, his parents told him to take all the time he needed, and he thought that he'd finally managed to claw his way from the smothering pit he'd tumbled into.

He held his head in his hands, staggering on down the alley. His head was aching fit to burst, and he was consciously avoiding reflective surfaces. He could feel his face, though. Feel the spikes bursting through his skin, and his epidermis hardening as the nanites took control again.

_Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?_

* * *

It wasn't the first time the young man's life had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Seven years ago, before he'd ever heard of a 'nanite', he had led a fairly normal life. Gone to school regularly, studied religiously every night, strove to be top of his class. He'd had a circle of friends – maybe not the largest in school, but it was enough to satisfy his meagre desires. Things had been good.

Then came the change.

He could still see their faces. His parents, when he woke up that day, so many years ago. The shock and horror that had been imprinted on their features when they looked up and saw what he had turned into. He'd never forget their frozen faces when they looked upon their son. An EVO.

It had been bad at school, of course. At first, the teachers had let him stay in class as long as hire didn't do anything threatening, but the other students had started pointedly avoiding him. He sat alone at his bench while he ate his lunch. He walked home on his own, surrounded by smiling faces turned away from him.

It got worse with the news on TV – hordes of monsters taking over Kiev, martial law being enforced all through Europe, every government on the planet forming special ops team to handle special incidents: the world was slowly gearing itself for war against all EVOs. Kwon felt smaller and smaller in his class, ignored and shunned by the population at large. The overpowering fear of the unknown had entered the people, and it dominated every person who fell under it.

Eventually, he got the inevitable call to the headmaster's office. Trudging slowly from the class, he'd made his way to the head's room and sat down, already knowing what was going to happen. There really was only one course of action the school could take.

The principal had been very sorry. Everyone was, or said they were, at any rate. That was the best an EVO could expect, given the new setting of the planet. _It's for the best_, the man had said in a kindly tone of voice. _I'm sure you understand_.

Walking home from school for that last time, he remembered what he'd seen under everyone's faces. It was a pervasive effect, tainting everything: from the glance that a stranger passing him by gave him to his parents' smiles.

It was fear.

They were all afraid of the EVO, afraid of the freak. Whenever he stood up after a meal, everyone unconsciously tensed, before relaxing and laughing nervously. When he stretched his arms, people around him flinched away, as though he was going to lash out at any moment. When he entered a room, all the eyes swiveled in his direction and stayed there, watching his every movement for any sign of danger.

He put up with this treatment for several weeks, bearing with it in order to have a normal life. He finally gave up his efforts when his mother dropped the tea set with a shriek and a crash after he'd sneezed violently one evening, startling her witless. He moved out the next day.

He took to the streets, scrounging off of dumpsters to get by. Life was hard for a 14-year old in the underbelly of the city, but he'd learned fast. He'd managed to eke a pitiful existence out, studying tattered textbooks under streetlights at night while sleeping in a cardboard box through most of the day.

He wasn't alone. There was a small community of EVOs who'd stayed outside the gangs, living by themselves wherever they could find space. There was a mutual sense of commiseration between these stragglers, and they'd helped each other out whenever they could. One of the most prominent of the ragtag group was a four-man group of teenagers hanging out in an empty water tank in the South. They weren't the most social bunch, but their territory was generally considered to be "safe", and they'd taught a small boy who missed his parents how to pick a pocket, and where it was safe to sleep at night.

One day, almost seven years since he'd taken to the streets, he was scrounging through the gutters looking for a quick bite when he heard the new rumor that was making the rounds: Providence was under new management, and they were going to start sweeping the ghettos for any EVOs. He'd dismissed the story as mere fiction; until the survivors showed up to confirm the stories.

Those were rough days. No more lounging about peacefully at night: now, their nights were filled with frantically dodging starkly bright searchlights while weaving through convoys of troops. Catching a few winks whenever the opportunity presented itself, he'd managed to stay half a step ahead of his pursuers for two and a half weeks; until they'd brought out their latest weapons: the collars. All he saw was a narrow disc of white coming his way and circumscribing his neck, then everything went black.

He'd regained consciousness in prison. Locked behind iron bars, he waited each day out with uncertainty, twiddling his thumbs nervously while waiting for something to happen. He was shipped to Providence main base eventually, but even there things continued on the same dull path. Eventually, he became accustomed to the monotony of prison, chatting with his cellmates. They were an interesting crew, down in the depths of Providence. There was a man with a snake for a tongue, a girl whose screams could shatter glass, a nerdy guy who just wanted some kind of drink: EVOs of all sorts who'd been forced to live a life of crime. They had some interesting chats, all right.

Then, one day, while he was trying to get his neighbor to explain this Western concept of "milkshakes", a Blue Wave had swept through the block, burning Kwon's veins as he lost consciousness.

When he awoke, he found that, miraculously, his hope had been revived. He'd taken the first jet to Hong Kong and reunited with his family, overjoyed by the blessing that heaven had mysteriously decided to bestow upon him. He'd basked in the glorious hope of a future at last, and was fairly ecstatic by his sudden change in fortunes.

And now this crashing fall…

_Why? Why? Why? WHY?_

Shouting the question in his head, Kwon failed to notice the dead end alley. Rushing unseeingly, he crashed headlong into the concrete. Devoid of the flickering flame of hope, completely crushed by the bludgeonings of fate, he wept.

Lying in a limp heap at the base of the wall, Kwon curled up into the fetal position, whispering the same words over and over into the dark as the tears poured down his face.

"Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?..." his voice trailed off as he lay on the ground. His shuddering sobs echoed through the empty alley.

* * *

Biowulf stood impassively on top of the building, looking down into the city streets. Breach was by his side, as they both took in the pitiful scene.

The lieutenant could hear every labored breath Kwon took. His sensors could pick up every whispered, agonized cry that escaped the boy's lips as he lay sobbing on the filthy ground. And every gasp, every word, was simply adding fire to the raging inferno of doubt that roiled within his metallic breast.

_You did that_, the maliciously leering voice in his head said. _Every whimper, every tortured moment of that boys misery is all __your__ fault, and, what's more, you know it. The great Biowulf, Pusher of Buttons, had brought yet another young man to the brink of despair through his own callous indifference._

_Oh, we are proud, aren't we? You had the gall, the brazen audacity, to hold the scales of humanity's happiness in your claws, and you had the sheer temerity to tip it for the worse. Where did you get off, thinking that you could ruin this boy's life? Not just his life, but the life of every cured EVO on the planet that's suffering like this boy is right now. Remember them? All the smiling men and dancing women?_

He squelched the voice in his head. Such thoughts would only undermine his determination and lower his efficiency. Right now, he had to focus on the task at hand – recruiting. With a sigh, the wolf-EVO straightened up. Breach shot a slanted glance at him from the corner of her eye.

"Want me to snatch him?" she asked, ready to launch a trans-dimensional portal at the huddled form below. Her hands glowed crimson as she clenched her fists, ready to send a hole in the fabric of space-time flying down.

Biowulf shook his head. This one would have to be handled carefully, with some finesse. He motioned to Breach to stay put. Then, his mind made up, he leaped down to the street below.

* * *

He landed with a clang in front of the boy. Kwon shook violently, then turned his bloodshot eyes to Biowulf, who remained in the shadows. Summoning his courage, the young EVO challenged the mysterious stranger cloaked by the darkness.

"What? What do you want?"

Biowulf remained silent, just out of the light cast by a nearby lamp. Kwon, a little annoyed by this person's recalcitrance, asked again, "What are you doing? You got a problem?"

Biowulf still said nothing. Kwon, finally irritated, got to his feet jerkily and turned to face the wolf-EVO, sneering quite frankly. "What? Whatcha looking at? Can I help you? Huh?"

Still nothing. "What's wrong?" Kwon asked, tilting his head back belligerently, displaying his prominent features and evident mutations. "Can't stop staring at the FREAK?" He formed his hands into fists, blood boiling in his veins as he advanced slowly. He'd had it. "You know what? I'm sick of all this, d–!"

Kwon's voice halted mid-sentence as the blue EVO took a step forward, falling under the halo of light cast by the streetlight. The inhuman form of the body…the claws…the red eyes…it was just too obvious what this character was.

"Y-You're an EVO? Bu-but…"

Biowulf's husky voice rasped out, interrupting the boy's stunned realization. "Who are you angry at?"

Kwon's mouth opened and closed a few times. His fists clenched, then relaxed as he slumped against the wall. His naturally passive nature reasserted itself as he answered, "I dunno. Everyone, I guess. It's just…I was so ready to be _done_ with this, you know?"

He tilted his head back to look at the milky sky, cluttered with stars that twinkled with carefree abandon, so far above the troubles of mere mortals. He closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

"What did I do to get this? I never joined a gang. I didn't pick fights. I honored my parents. I was a good student. I'd never deserved this, but once it had gone I was OK with it, because I could put it all behind me, you know. A healthy learning experience, made me stronger: that knid of jazz. I was fine with that."

His eyes furrowed and his hands clenched convulsively as he continued his train of thought. "But now, after leaving for a few days, it's back. I'd just got my life back, after years living on the outside, and now I'm about to be tossed back to the gutter. I'm _sick_ of it. Where do I go? What a guy like me supposed to do?"

Biowulf laid a heavy hand on the young EVO's shoulder. "I understand. You wish for a place to belong, a place where you can be what you are freely, without any worry of judgments or groundless attacks."

He gestured subtly to Breach, who opened a door-sized portal to Abysus in the alley. The red plasma hung suspended in the air, breaking the time-honored laws of physics flagrantly without a single qualm.

Kwon gaped at the portal open-mouthed, then looked at Biowulf. "That's…What is that?"

Biowulf pushed him towards it. "It's the gateway to more of our kind. It leads to our ruler, and the leader of all EVOs everywhere. It leads…home."

"Home…" Kwon let the unfamiliar and yet longed for syllables roll off of his tongue tentatively, almost as though he were a stranger to the concept. He turned his gaze back to the portal, which swirled and beckoned him seductively. Still he hesitated as the bonds to his old life held him back, even at the eleventh hour.

"My family? My friends? What about them?"

The blue wolf waved a hand. "I offer you a choice. You can remain here and keep suffering at the hands of the humans, beaten down by them as they strive to dominate your spirit. On the other hand, you could slip the chains that have shackled you down for so long and acknowledge your true nature: not as a human, but as an EVO."

"Acknowledge…my true nature?" Kwon was falling behind, but was oddly drawn to the prospect of leaving it all behind.

"You have a new family, now. Those of us who have been cast away from society, those of us who've had our futures stolen from us – we will forge our own futures!"

Kwon nodded and looked deep into the rift. A myriad of thoughts flew through his head, bickering and haggling as he tried to process the situation. He could feel the chains of home and hearth pulling him back to the dark streets, and yet the glowing portal spoke of freedom from condemnation; a place to belong.

He squared his shoulders as he came to a final decision.

"I'm in."

Biowulf patted Kwon's shoulder gently, before giving the kid a light push towards the portal. He gestured eloquently, and offered a last bit of encouragement to allay the subject's remaining worries.

"Go on, boy. A new life awaits you."

Kwon squared his shoulders, and, without a backward glance, strode through the flickering plasma.

* * *

Biowulf and Breach stood alone in the alley, backlit by the portal's luminescent glow. The wolf-EVO was wrestling with himself.

_Offering the boy a helping hand after you'd cast him into the pit in the first place, eh? Truly devious._

The voice in his head was back, and with a vengeance. Biowulf defended his actions, telling himself that he had helped the boy. The humans were at fault, casting the EVO aside like an old glove, discarding him like yesterday's trash. It was the human's fault, not his! Besides, he was just following orders.

_Of course, that's what the Nazis said when they butchered the Jews. _I was just following orders_, they said, with a shrug and a smirk. Of course, you're way out of their league. I mean, you've ruined the lives of _billions_ of people. You put the Holocaust to shame with the push of one button! They can't touch you! You're on a different level! Bet you feel real proud of yourself, eh?_ _Makes you feel all big and strong, hmm?_

Biowulf blocked out the voice once more, ignoring himself studiously. Sacrifices had to be made in order to achieve utopia for EVOs everywhere; it was only natural to shove the weaker humans out of the way. There was no alternative path. These weak feelings of dissent and discord were simply passing sentiments, and would have to be ignored if he wanted to serve his Master as best he could.

Focusing his mind, Biowulf purged his mental space of all such unclean thoughts, reminding himself of his _raison d'être_. Silencing all niggling thoughts of weakness, he returned to the roof and took up his post next to Breach once more. Side by side, like sentinels over the creatures of the night, the mismatched pair watched the city. Waiting for the next tormented soul to wander along.

Somewhere out in the metropolis, a howl of utter agony and despair sounded out.

In the shadows, a blue wolf started moving.

* * *

**A/N** – So, Kwon is my Universe's version of the 'Hong Kong EVO', who was only seen once or twice. Look him on the wiki for some pictures and more background data. He's not important to the story, and simply serves as a medium for Biowulf to realize some of his darker musings, as well as the consequences of his own actions. He will probably never be mentioned again, and I made his character up completely.

Anyway, shout out if you caught the small reference to Fitzy Feakins, who has now joined the pantheon of characters I've included. I'm getting closer to catching them all. By the way – I don't know if anyone's noticed, but I'm feeling terrifically glum after writing this last chapter, so I thought I'd point it out – what happened to Serge? Rex cured every EVO, and Serge's water kingdom was kept alive solely EVOs, so…does that mean Serge is dead? I'd rather not think about things like that, so…moving on…

**YellowAngela**: It's nice to hear that I'm keeping the characters technically correct. Always a good thing. Thanks for reviewing, and I'm glad you liked the ' science-y stuff'!

**theWriterunknown**: I shall strive to keep meeting your expectations. Thanks for the review, and the lavish application of flattery!

**Lily**: Praise of the highest calibre! Don't worry, I'm going to see this through till the end, with my bi-monthly updates forging ahead!

And now, a poem. Because I'm bored, it's late, I'm bored, and it's late.

_As I, a sober chronicler,  
__Of kings, and wars, and all that stuff;  
__Do pen these lines of modern lore,  
__I find the going terr'bly rough._

xxXxx


	15. Aftermath

**A/N**: Golly, has it really been over a month? Time sure flies by, huh. Sorry there was such a hiatus, guys, but I've been working on a fanfiction in another domain for a bit, and I finally posted it. I invaded the _Bastion_ fandom this past few weeks, so if you've ever played the game you might want to read my story.

Kudos to Pelham Greville Wodehouse for inspiration for the voices in Six's head. They were taken with no permission whatsoever from his book _Uneasy Money_, the copyright for which has most certainly expired (it was published in 1916. That's almost 100 _years_ ago, folks). I'm a huge Wodehouse fan.

Also, **there is a** **time-skip**. I know we left Providence right after they'd figured out what was going on, but we are now approximately two days ahead. Why? Good question. Real shame there's no good answer to reciprocate.

* * *

_Around two days after the Spark,  
__Providence Headquarters_

Holiday rubbed her forehead tenderly as she struggled futilely to contain the migraine that was blossoming from her smoldering irritation.

_It's settled, the Universe officially hates my guts. No question about it. _

_The problems just keep piling up, don't they? Hunter Cain's escaped, my best lab coat has officially been ruined forever, every former EVO on the planet has mysteriously reverted simultaneously, Evan had to be put in a containment cell, Rex is exhausted from all the curing he's had to do, and finally, the cherry to top the cake, there's this. Like I don't have a high enough blood pressure already._

"Knight, I'm telling you, there's just–"

"And _I'm_ telling _you_, Holiday, that I want this problem solved within the week!"

She sighed, releasing some of her pent-up frustration as she glared at the screen. "White, to fix this problem, we'd have to take medical samples from literally every person involved in this incident! With the limited resources we have right now, it just isn't possible to analyze that many people at the same time!"

"Resources? Doctor, Providence has never had as many willing donors as we do now. There is literally no country on the face of the earth that is not pouring money into our departments so that we can stop this problem before it starts again."

"It's not just an issue of money, White – we simply don't have enough capable scientists," she retorted. Even though the condition of the subjects (as she'd forced herself to call them) had settled down, she still couldn't analyze everything at the same time.

"I don't recall ever being the European Organization for Nuclear Research, Doctor. We are a military organization, and frankly speaking you're quite lucky to have a lab at all. What about César and his group? Don't Meechum and Dr. Rhodes have enough expertise for you?"

"They've got enough on their plates already; what with the R&amp;D department clamoring for new technology as soon as possible. No, I'm afraid that I'm the only one who can analyze these five for now. That being said, I am only human, and cannot produce instantaneous results – especially not when I'm being interrupted every five minutes by my superior."

Knight grunted and folded his hands. Clearly, he was not happy with the pace at which things were progressing. "I'm expecting results, Doctor." He hung up, leaving Holiday to her thoughts, which were grim to say the least.

_What does he want me to do? It's only been two days since things broke loose, and we've had our hands full just trying to prevent mass hysteria from breaking out. As things stand, people are devastated enough, but if they find out that we don't even know _why_ things have gone back things are going to get ugly._

_Already Evan's lost his reason and has had to be restrained. He's denigrated back to that ravening beast of NoFace, and we don't know if he can be fixed. Rex's friends have turned again and are in varying stages of denial. EVOs are ravaging every major population center on the map._

_What's more, our system's been thrown out of sync by this sudden event. We used to have detailed reports coming in hourly from every section of the globe that Providence was stationed in, but now any data we get is half-formed and sporadic. Our agents have been taken completely by surprise, and are having trouble readjusting. With conditions like these, making coherent sense of anything we get is nigh impossible. I need more information, and there seems to be a short supply nowadays._

_Normally I'd wonder how things could possibly get worse, but I'm not going to even try to open _that_ can of worms._

Holiday felt that migraine forming and groaned mentally. She didn't have time for this. She hadn't slept for the last 48 hours, and it still felt like there wasn't enough time. They needed to find out what had caused the sudden reprogramming of the nanites, and they needed to find out fast. Turning away from the screen that formerly had had White's image on it, she walked into the lab. Hopefully she could find some answers in here.

_It's not like anything like this has ever happened before_, she thought as she was analyzing a sample of Circe's nanites. _I mean, these EVOs were gone for good, or so we thought, when they just…came back from the dead. When was the last time an EVO came back from the dead?_

An interesting idea struck her. Granted, it dealt more with an actual cure than with eradicating the root of the problem, but still, it was worth a shot.

_When was the last time…hang on. Van Kleiss 'resurrected' himself that time in Abysus from that funky machine he'd built, didn't he? Well, didn't he change from incurable to curable? Never really understood why, but according to the results it seemed as though something had gone wrong when he swapped nanites in order to resurrect._

_Of course, that was because he'd changed the nanites within himself, throwing out the old ones and bringing in new ones that were able to be cured. Well, isn't it possible that pretty much the same thing has happened here?_

_And with these newest pseudo-EVOs, if their nanites have all changed, then shouldn't it be possible to undo their transformations as well? Yeah, that would work! Where's Rex? We need to test this out as soon as possible!_

Feeling quite refreshed and reinvigorated, not to mention relieved by her breakthrough, Holiday began scouring Providence base for Rex. Unfortunately for the good doctor, the Hispanic teenager was a bit preoccupied at the moment…

* * *

_Simultaneously,  
__Elsewhere_

"Watch out for that bus! Duck! DUCK!"

Kenwyn's mildly frenzied shouts alerted Rex, who looked up and dove to the side just in time to avoid being flattened by the airborne vehicle. The wing mirror clipped his face, however, and the exhausted boy spun like a top before falling flat on his back, too tired to even get up. The EVO who'd thrown the missile was a hulking, scaled creature that was panting heavily as it looked around for its next target. It hesitated a moment before advancing towards Rex's position, prepared to crush the dazed teen. Kenwyn, from her secure position further up the street, decided to make her move.

"Bobo! Covering fire!"

"I'm on it, lady!" Bobo called as he jumped off of her shoulder, firing bullets rapid-fire at the EVOs head while in mid-air. His shots arced through the air and splashed across the thing's head, diverting its attention. Kenwyn lobbed a few grenades out for good measure, masking her passage as she darted closer to the EVO and analyzed its weak spots.

The beast raised one bulky arm to protect its face and let out a howl of rage. Turning from the bus and the fallen teenager, it made its way towards Bobo's position on top of a light pole, from where he was firing furiously. Kenwyn pulled out her rifle as well and began firing at the EVO, aiming for critical areas. _Just like the firing range, just like the firing range, just like the…_

The EVO, which was weathering the barrage of bullets fairly well, continued its stolid advance towards the duo. It didn't seem to be overly concerned by the bullets, viewing them as more of an annoyance than anything else.

"Move back slowly, Bobo! Don't lay up on the fire!"

"Aye-aye, cap'n!" Moving slowly, the pair cautiously fell back, firing all the while. Their bullets seemed to be having no effect, however, and Kenwyn was beginning to consider retreating entirely from the field until Rex recovered.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden cessation of noise. She turned to Bobo, who had stopped firing suddenly and was slinging his guns back onto his shoulders. "What's wrong, Bobo?" she asked quizzically.

"The boss's fixin' that thing now, so we might as well save our ammo. Ease off a bit, and relax," the monkey said, closing his eyes and resting his head back.

Kenwyn looked back at the EVO, and, sure enough, it was quivering and contorting strangely. Upon closer examination, she could see Rex standing behind it with a look of intense concentration on his face. He sported several nasty cuts all over his body, and the wing mirror of that bus had given him a perfect black eye that was blossoming blue and purple.

"OK, big guy," he said, taking a deep breath. "Time to get healed." With that, he placed his splayed hand on the being's chest and closed his eyes. The tell-tale whirring and clicking of nanites interacting and exchanging information filled the air as the EVO shuddered about, luminescent blue lines crisscrossing its body as it quivered and shrank. Within moments, the beast had disappeared, leaving behind a middle-aged man flat on his back, peacefully unconscious.

After double-checking to make sure that the situation was truly over, Kenwyn walked up to Rex, who was resting his hands on his knees and inhaling deeply. "Nice work there, Rex. Another job well done, although your situational awareness still leaves much to be desired."

Used to her biting manner of delivering compliments, Rex only smiled at the praise offered. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, soaking up some of the beaded perspiration that had gathered there before replying somewhat sarcastically. "Gee, thanks. I suppose I should have paid a bit more attention: that bus was going to flatten me if you hadn't noticed it."

"No problem. It was nothi–"

She was cut off by the crackle of Rex's earpiece. _"Come in, Rex. This is Six. Rex, respond."_

The three man team looked at each other and sighed. Rex replied, "Yeah, _*hack*_ I'm here."

"_There's an energy-sucking EVO loose at the main power plant growing larger by the minute. Take it out quickly, before it drains the city and damages the equipment beyond repair."_

Bobo cut in. "Say there, pal, you don't suppose we could have a few minutes? The kid's beat, and I could really use a break myself."

A familiar voice joined the conversation abruptly, settling the argument with his authoritative tone of voice. _"That's a negative. The supply of electricity to the entire city is at stake here, and the longer you wait, the larger that EVO gets. You have four minutes."_ White hung up, only to be replaced by Holiday, who sounded absolutely ecstatic for some reason.

"_Rex, when you get some free time, I'd like you to come back over to the base. I have a theory regarding your friends – you might be able to cure them, now that their nanites have changed."_

Rex's face brightened as he continued sucking in huge breaths of air. "Really? You mean that there's a chance we can fix this mess? That's great, Doc! You mean like that thing with Van Kleiss?"

"_Yes, exactly like that thing with Van Kleiss. It's entirely possible that their nanites have reoriented themselves into a position favorable to being cured, but it's impossible to tell without you actually coming over here and trying for yourself. Of course, we could try –_"

Her voice was suddenly cut out by White's, who took over the radio wavelength without warning for the second time in as many minutes. "_First things first: take care of the power station. The safety of the people is of paramount importance; all experiments and such can wait till later_." He severed the line.

The exhausted trio looked at each other. Kenwyn was the first to break the stillness, moving stolidly in the direction of the power plant. She looked over her shoulder at the two standing behind her.

"Well, team, let's move out."

Rex watched Kenwyn walk briskly off with a feeling somewhat akin to awe. "How is she…_*heave *_…still standing?" That kind of endurance wasn't possible. It just wasn't human.

Bobo shrugged as he trudged after her. "Beats me, boss. Seems like all your guardians got some kind of superhuman abilities."

Indeed, Kenwyn's inhuman characteristics reminded Rex of another one of his guardians, whose humanity was often called into question.

_I wonder how Six is doing…_

* * *

Six was unused to being away from Rex's side for extended periods of time – normally, he stuck to the kid closer than Noah hung onto to his textbooks. However, with EVO-related catastrophes striking around the world on a regular basis, the Providence forces were spread so thin that every hand was needed as often as possible. Given the circumstances, White had ruled that it made no sense for Six and Rex to continue as a team during such a crisis, and so they'd been deployed onto their own individual missions.

As Six zoomed through the burning streets on his hoverboard, casually dodging the spiked projectiles fired at him by the EVO he was chasing, his cell phone vibrated gently in his pocket. Nimbly balancing as he leant back to dodge a particularly close shot, he folded one sword up and flipped his phone open, noting the caller ID. _An unknown number_. Taking the call, he put the phone to the side of his head.

"Who are you and how did you get this number." It wasn't a question, although it was phrased as such.

"Why, 'ullo there, Six. Been a while since we chatted last, 'asn't it? You 'aven't forgotten about my guitar now, 'ave you? You still owe me, y'know."

The familiar voice rang merrily through the speaker, and Six identified the caller instantly. After all, there was only one person with Six's number who had such an atrocious British accent.

"Five. Why are you calling?"

"No reason in particular," she drawled out in her overblown Cockney accent, playing the innocent act to the max. Six wasn't taken in for a moment – this was, after all, the fifth most dangerous person on the planet, a fact the ninja wasn't going to forget during this 'social call'.

"Cut the games, Five. What do you want?" The EVO he was chasing howled and screeched, but Six paid it no mind. _Why would she call now?_

"Why, Six! Your words cut me to the very quick, they 'ave. Can't a girl call to reminisce about the good ol' times of the past?"

The phone's casing creaked as Six tightened his grip on the plastic frame. "The 'good ol' times', as you have so quaintly put it, will remain precisely there: in the past. In the meantime, I'm currently engaged in making sure that there's a _future_ for the rest of us, so catching up over war stories can wait."

Six could actually _feel_ the woman's smirk on the other end of the line. "Well, you've seen right through my games. Truth is, I've been told to give you a message."

"I understand if you're still upset about our last meeting, but if this is a misguided attempt to get some kind of revenge on me, you have seriously deluded yourself." Six was on the verge of hanging up; he had literally hundreds of more important things to be doing than gossiping with a pink-haired girl with no sense of timing. Her next words, however, stopped him cold.

"Sorry to disappoint you, love. It's not that kind of message. This one's…from Dos."

Six's breath caught in his throat. _Dos? What could _he_ want to talk to me about?_ "What did he say?"

Girlish laughter trilled merrily down the line as Five had a good chuckle at Six's expense. "Hate to tell you, love, but it don't work like that. All I can say is that he's offering information about the recent outbreak of them nasty EVOs. He'll meet with you at that old power plant in Limbarbe where you and I last parted on such…agreeable…terms."

Six latched onto one phrase. "He's offering information?"

"Come alone. Tomorrow morning. That's all I was told to tell you. Cheerio, old lad, and I'll see you in a bit!"

And with that cryptic farewell, she hung up, leaving Six staring at his cell phone impassively while a storm of confused emotions raged under his placid mask.

_Dos is offering me information? Since when has Dos been on wheeling-dealing terms with me? The six of us have never gotten along well at all. Moreover, wasn't he trying to kill me last time we met? I doubt much has changed on that front. So why would he make an offer like this?_

The obvious answer was that the whole thing was a trap, especially with the 'come alone' stipulation. That was the dangerous thing about keeping appointments with any of the Numbers – though they were technically a team, there was not one of the group that would hesitate to stab one of their comrades over a petty squabble. Dos was no exception.

_Still, if he actually _does _have information…_Six was torn between staying at Providence to help the kid out, and going to Limbarbe to strip Dos of any information the man might have; by force if necessary.

_And with Dos, it will most certainly be necessary…_

* * *

Doctor Holiday looked back at the computer screen with a sigh. The euphoria of finding a potential solution had worn off some time ago, and she was impatiently awaiting Rex's return. White kept on piling work on the kid, and the Doctor had no choice but to sit back and twiddle her thumbs.

Even as she mulled over all her research, she found little to give her hope. They may have found a potential way out of the problem, but she still had no question to the repeated question: Why was this happening?

She sighed heavily and slumped back against the wall. No matter how many ways she interpreted them, the readings gave her no answers. She went over the facts in her mind one more time.

Some – not all – of the former EVOs in Providence were reverting back to their EVO forms. At first it had appeared to be entirely random, as there'd seemed to be no rules to the process.

Through some simple detective work, she'd determined that the only people who were affected by this sudden resurgence were the ones who'd been cured by Rex's Meta-Nanite cure, aka the Second Nanite Event. Others who had been EVOs at one point (like Captain Calan, Noah and, thank heavens, Beverley) were mercifully unaffected, although that just made the blow to the 'turned' people that much crueler.

The chaos on the global level was far more worrying. Martial law had been enforced in several Eastern countries, and the diplomatic situation between the major powers was worsening as each tried to pin the blame for the event on each other. The Japanese vociferously accused the Chinese of deceit, the Chinese ambassador ranted at the American embassy, the American president looked in Russia's direction, and Russia strenuously denied any connection to the Blue Wave. They swore up and down that they had nothing to do with this whatsoever, and that this was affecting them as much as it did everyone.

This, of course, was as good as a confession to their enemies, and the international situation was growing tenser by the hour.

She hadn't been able to pin down exactly what had happened to their nanites themselves – all the readings she'd received seemed to be showing a state that was exactly the same as they were before the Cure. The only nanites that were displaying any odd readings were, oddly enough, Rex's. His Omega nanite was clocking unprecedented levels of functionality, and more advanced scans had revealed that the central processing unit was spewing out lines of corrective code at a prodigious rate.

This was, in itself, an extremely unusual event. In general, when a nanite's code had been erroneously copied and needed adjustment, the repair mechanisms would operate for a few minutes, rectify the mistake, and then power off. If the error was too egregious to correct, the nanite would be marked as defective and would promptly be wiped clean and overwritten later. It was a masterpiece of self-maintenance, and had kept human interference to an absolute minimum. Rex himself had no clue how hard his Omega nanite was crunching through numbers.

Regardless of his awareness, however, Rex's repair systems were working non-stop around the clock, forever re-writing code. Due to the constantly changing nature of the strings, Holiday had been unable to get a fix on exactly which commands were being denied by the Omega nanite, but there was little doubt that there was an outside force continuously interfering with the nanites.

The conclusion that Holiday had drawn was that something was trying to overwrite everyone's nanites, and that it had probably already succeeded in doing so. Only Rex's Omega nanite, with its built-in control feature, seemed to be trying to counter the incoming codes, which explained the activity spikes.

It was a good working hypothesis, but left a lot of questions unanswered.

_What could have caused such a widespread reaction among the nanites? ZAG-RS, maybe, but if that were the case all the nanites would be self-destructing…which they obviously aren't._

_Also, how is this signal bypassing normal security protocol and entering everyone's nanites? Why is no one else affected by this?_

_Furthermore, who would do this? Every country on the planet is under attack from within, so it's unthinkable that this was a political move. But then who? And _why_? What motive could there be? Who possibly benefits?_

_It's no good. I can't draw any meaningful hypotheses from the sources now available to me. I absolutely must have more data!_ She voiced her main problem out loud, on the off chance that vocalizing it would solve her problem.

"I need more information!"

"You need information? On what?" asked Six from his position right behind her, causing her to whirl around in surprise, hand flying to her throat.

"Six! I…I didn't know you were standing there," she stammered out, cursing her brain for choosing that precise moment to short-circuit completely.

Six made no comment, and waited for an answer while feeling slightly miffed. He'd _just_ made up his mind to ignore Five's 'friendly' call and stay peacefully at Providence, and now Holiday had to go and say she wanted information.

_Brilliant. What am I supposed to do _now_?_

Holiday, slightly disturbed by the man's lack of reaction, decided to answer his original question. "Umm, well…I need information about whatever may be causing this recent epidemic of EVOs. I mean, we'll soon find out if Rex can cure the formerly incurable EVOs, but it would be a lot easier to take care of things if we could strike the problem at the root…"

Her voice trailed off as Six continued to stand there, face completely immobile. Inside him, a debate was running back and forth between different parts of himself.

The logical part of him was calmly explaining why leaving Providence right now was such a bad idea. _After all, this is where everything is happening right now. Leaving would simply weaken the base's position. The smart thing to do would be to play it safe and stick around here. As an asset, you're far more valuable when centralized at base, ready for missions._

_Besides, it's highly unlikely that Dos actually has any useful information – it's more than possible that he's trying to play you by offering you precisely what you want. It's definitely a trap._

All very reasonable assumptions to make, he admitted to himself. Still, as he stood there looking at Holiday's baffled face, he felt a part of his brain that should probably have been doing something more practical speak up. _Y'know…If Dos actually does have some information, it would probably help Holiday unravel this whole mess…and all the EVOs could go back to normal…_

_Shut up_, his normal brain told the crazy part eloquently. _Do you know the probability of that happening? Try one in a quadrillion! The odds are lower than…than…than Rex ever sinking a hoop against Noah!_

Holiday's downcast face filled Six's vision momentarily, and the normal part sighed deeply. _Ignore your sentimental feelings. I know it may be difficult at first, but you'll find that_…it rambled on for a few minutes before it realized that it had been covertly superimposed upon by the crazy part, which was insidiously whispering into Six's metaphorical ear, murmuring soppy platitudes.

_Look at that disappointed face…doesn't it pull at your finer sensibilities, make you want to do something outrageously heroic? Say…go to Limbarbe? Find some information there? Save the day in a flagrantly heroic manner?_

Six's mind gradually inclined towards this theory. _Who knows what kind of information Dos is withholding?_ As he drew closer to making a final decision, the main part of his brain tried desperately to salvage the situation, shouting _No! Don't listen to yourself! You're insane!_

"Six?" Holiday's gentle voice broke in on his private thoughts. "Is something…wrong?"

Six blinked once. He made his decision and opened his mouth. His mind simultaneously concurred and cussed at him – an unusual feeling, and one that he was not very familiar with. Nonetheless, he'd made up his mind, and so said:

"Holiday, could you get someone to prep my jump jet? I've got to get to Limbarbe by tomorrow."

The crazy part applauded his decision gently, winking and flashing him a massive grin.

The normal portion of his brain said nothing, being beyond speech.

xxXxx

* * *

**A/N**: Don't worry, this'll be the only appearance of the double voices. Six is not schizophrenic, and the voices mainly serve as comedy – a job I think they performed very well at.

Well, looks like Holiday's found the answer to the problem! Great, everything's solved! Not! I can assure you, my dear doctor, it's not going to be that easy. There's a good deal of turmoil and misery ahead for some of our characters. Notably Squid. And writing anything more would be telling, now wouldn't it?

Well, I've finally managed to work Five into my story. The Numbers won't be playing a huge part in this, but I'm working on a one-shot called "Doing The Numbers" that will focus on them, so keep your eyes open for that.

Some information: Limbarbe is the country with that power plant EVO thingy from "Six Minus Six". I think I spelt it right, although any additional input would be nice.

**YellowAngela**: Kwon may show up again in the future, but giving him too much characterization would distract from my main tormented heroes – Biowulf and (hard to believe) Hunter. As a substitute for the omake, I used Six's voices.

**Lily**: Thanks for your kind words, as always! And, like you, I try not to think about what happened to Serge.

**theWriterunknown**: I'm actually beginning to wonder how much control I have over this story: I had never planned for a character like Kwon when I started writing, and inserted him at the last minute. Who knows what's next? I feel much cheerier now, so thanks!

**FloatingPizza**: Yes, I've been told that several times (notably by my family members, who have been known to start drooling on my works out of sheer boredom). Sorry about that, I tend to drone on a bit too much when painting the background in my words. I realize this chapter is lengthy as well, but I tried to make it a bit snappier, and I even set two plotlines moving. Thanks so much for the advice!

A poem. To express my frustration with my search for the "ideal college in the sky". Why does nobody teach Biomimetics as a course?

_Adrift amid a sea of ink,  
__I'm drowning in these many schools.  
__Benumbed by data; now I think  
__All colleges are ships of fools._


	16. Shattered Mirrors

A/N: The only _pure_ OC I have in this story is introduced in this chapter. There's a rather lurid description near the end, by the way, so watch out for that.

Enjoy!

_Two days, four hours and sixteen minutes after the Spark,_

_A dark alley in the city_

The sun set quietly over the city, bathing the buildings in fading orange light. Hunter sat quietly against the wall, lost in his thoughts. The city was mostly quiet now, but Hunter knew that the calm wouldn't last. He knew from experience that the buildings were still crawling with EVOs who were looking for their next bite to eat.

He was alone now. Gatlocke had drummed up a few hoodlums and good-for-nothings and had taken to the desert in a funky roadster he'd managed to filch. With his departure, most of the human population had departed as well, trying their luck out on the open roads. The city had turned into a ghost town overnight, but Hunter knew how this was all going to play out. He'd seen it before, after all. When the world came to an end, the ones who kept their heads level were the ones who'd come out on top.

Hunter was prepared.

_Looks like the good old days are back again. I could start my own army again, take out every EVO for good, get rid of the stinking plague. The people are desperate now, they'll grab for any way out of this they can find. When they come back to the city once it's been cleared by Providence and the military, they'll be even more desperate for a solution._

_Let's see…I'm sure I can craft some more nanite-disrupting bullets – I could probably mass-produce them with the kind of support I'm gonna rake up from the masses_._ Weapons shouldn't be too hard to find: after all, this town is going to turn into a warzone quickly if nobody stands up to protect the people. Sure, Providence will say that they're looking for an answer, but the average Joe on the street will want to see someone who gets things _done_. Show them a few EVO killings, demonstrate the special bullets, put a gun in his hands…and let nature take its course._

Well, to do any of that he'd have to keep his own freedom. It had been around two days since he'd broke out of Providence, and no agents had been along to retrieve him yet. So far, the only Providence operatives he'd seen had been fighting tooth-and-nail against EVOs all over the city, trying to keep the vital services operating. The water mains, power plant and telecommunication centers had all become bastions for their agents, while the subways were constantly patrolled to ensure safe transportation.

Naturally, all that chaos and disorder around town meant that fewer agents had the time to look for the rogue prisoner who'd broken out – a state of affairs that Hunter was perfectly fine with. He was in no hurry to leave the city, and was already making plans. He had yet to decide upon a base, but he'd scoped out a few potential locations, and was feeling pretty optimistic about the future. Maybe he could contact that guy he'd saved, see if there was anyplace he could shack up for a bit. He pulled out the slip of paper with the man's phone number on it and decided to go find a phone whenever he had the time.

_Two brown orbs, beautifully suspended before him, reflected fear._

Hunter tilted his head back, leaning against the concrete wall. More memories to haunt and baffle him. Just what he needed.

His all-too-brief moment of introspection was broken by a sudden shattering sound on the main street, followed by muted sounds as glass broke. He got to his feet slowly and held his gun at the ready. _No rest for the wicked, I guess_.

The window of a large grocery store at a major intersection had been smashed to pieces, and Hunter barely caught a glimpse of a slim figure slipping in through the newly-created jagged hole.

_An EVO. Probably scavenging for food, the filth._

Hunter crossed the street slowly, his gun at the ready. He stood in front of the broken window for a moment, before silently clambering through and landing inside. His feet made small jangling noises as they crushed the glass shards littering the pavement outside. Hunter peered through the windows fruitlessly: the lights were off inside, so anything could have been waiting for him.

Moving cautiously, Hunter stepped into the shop as he allowed his vision to adjust to the sudden change in the light level. He scanned the dark interior, checking between the aisles in the narrow rectangles of light cast by the windows. _Aisle 4: __Cheeses, Cereals, Snacks_…Eyes squinted, he stood perfectly still, listening for any sign of the intruder.

The shop was empty and quite disarrayed, with overturned baskets lying around and a few display racks knocked over, their contents spilled across the ground.

A slight rustling from _Aisle 2: Beef, Pork, Chicken_ caught his attention. Swiveling noiselessly to face that direction, Hunter kept his ears strained for the slightest indication that the EVO was about to attack. Treading carefully around the discarded products lying haphazardly upon the floor, he slowly crept along the tiled floor. The muffled noises continued as he gently moved towards the back of the shop, shrouded in shadows.

Peeking around the edge of a stack of dog food cans, Hunter saw a huddled form rummaging through the frozen meat section of the store, sifting through the contents of a refrigerator.

_Disgusting_, Hunter thought with a sneer, sighting along his gun barrel. One shot should take care of this particular EVO scavenger.

The unsuspecting target continued busily rifling the meat stock, completely oblivious to the impending doom hovering so near. Hunter closed one eye, heedless of the small slip of paper that slipped from his pocket, landing on the floor. He'd take care of it later.

His finger creaked on the trigger as he locked onto the target's head. _So long, freak_.

A bare millisecond before Hunter could pull the trigger, the subject happened to look up. The fabric covering its head fell back, revealing two hooded ochre eyes that stared back at Hunter from under a head of bushy black hair. This was no EVO. This was…

_A boy?_

There was a stunned moment full of surprise so sharp it was almost tangible. Hunter looked at the boy; who looked back at Hunter.

The deadlock was broken by the child himself, who merely grunted nonchalantly and went back to whatever he was doing with the meat.

Hunter lowered his gun and continued staring at the back of the boy's head. The brief glimpse he'd got of the kid's face told him that the boy was fourteen years old, fifteen at the most. His face was smudged with dirt, and there were lines under his eyes. And, more importantly, it told Hunter that this boy was completely unintimidated by a hulking man standing behind him holding a gun. Despite himself, Hunter was grudgingly impressed.

He could use someone like this.

"What's a kid your age doing robbing a grocery store?"

The boy made no response, discouraging conversation by facing the other way. He was steadily loading the knapsack he was holding with cuts of meat from the frozen section, methodically stacking the plastic cartons in his bag. This gave Hunter the opportunity to size him up, drawing a character sketch in his own mind.

He took in the patched and worn clothes. The jeans were tattered, and the non-descript dark olive jacket had certainly seen better days. The boots were brand new, however, so he'd probably robbed some kind of footwear outlet before the grocery store. Cain was impressed by the practicality – instead of getting better clothing, which would have been unnecessary, the boy had snagged some shoes. He'd then come here to pick up supplies.

Hunter's mind was made up. The kid was resourceful, and was obviously a die-hard survivor. A useful addition to the ranks of Hunter's future army. Now, to reel him in…

"I mean, the first time _I_ did something illegal, I was twice your age, so seeing a brat like you working a joint this thoroughly is new."

The boy straightened up, slung the bag over his shoulder and turned for the shattered window, not even deigning Hunter with a glance. He was taller than he looked, with a lanky frame and calloused hands that hung low. His shoes clacked as they hit the floor – now that Hunter thought about it, they were…Providence issue, by their look. Where's a kid get Providence boots from? Cain remained where he was, in the shadows, still talking to the air.

"Don't you know it's dangerous out there? The EVOs are back, kid, and they'll kill you if you get stuck alone with one of them." Hunter was leading up to his usual recruiting speech. He'd follow this up with an offer of protection, and then he'd slowly bring the kid into the fold. It had worked countless times before…

The silhouetted figure froze in the act of squeezing between the broken glass fragments. Slowly, he turned around and looked directly at Hunter. Most of his face was veiled by the bright light behind him, but they locked eyes across the room. _Brown orbs…_

_How unusual._

A rasping voice jangled through the air: "Me? Stuck alone? With an EVO?" The idea seemed to amuse the boy, who snorted a bit, then chuckled, then finally leaned back, howling with laughter. Hunter listened carefully to his voice. It was a jaded sound, a noise that shouldn't have been coming from the mouth of a child so young. It took a long time for him to wind down.

"Alone with…an EVO? And that's…_that's _what'sdangerous? _Dangerous? _Oh, that's a good one…that's just…that's…" The boy wiped some tears from his eyes before turning away with one hand raised, shaking his head. He adjusted the pack on his shoulder, sniggered one last time, then strode off into the sunshine, gangly legs carrying him out of sight.

Hunter remained silent throughout the entire episode, stoically watching the kid. He'd never admit it, but he was a little bit shaken. Not by the kid's arrogant confidence, or by the fact that the boy had just broken Hunter's usual indoctrination routine quite flagrantly. It wasn't even the maniacal cackling – he'd shared a cell block with Gatlocke, so he was used to crazy laughter. He could have had crazy laughter for breakfast.

No, what shook him just the tiniest bit was the look in the kid's eyes as he'd left. For a moment, as Hunter had watched him, he'd caught a glimpse of deep wrath bottled within the boy, as well as a lingering sorrow. It was as though the child was flinging a challenge at the world, daring it to throw the worst of its dregs at him. Hunter didn't have much human sympathy, but he knew one or two things.

No kid should look like that.

Hunter continued standing there for a moment more before shaking himself back to the present. He looked at the irregular, jagged hole in the window, then looked at the cashier counter. There was a landline phone sitting there, veritably beckoning to him. Hunter picked up the phone number he'd dropped to the ground and looked at it again. Then back at the phone. Then at nothing.

_Brown orbs_…

He sighed.

_I don't have time for this._

The meat-carrying lad was stalking through the streets, eating up ground with his new shoes. They were really great, and the enjoyable sensation of wearing them almost made him forget their unsavory source. Well, it wasn't like _he_ was going to need the shoes anytime soon…

He rounded a corner sharply, approaching the city limits rapidly. Soon he would be on the highway, and then he'd be home. He sped up his pace, shifting the heavy pack from one shoulder to the other while blinking sweat out of his eyes. _Just half an hour from here, assuming there're no…complications_.

As he crossed by a large building, though, fate graciously decided to grant him a complication. One minute, he was jogging steadily down the street towards his house. The next, the wall he was moving past simply…imploded, sending the boy flying backwards with the rest of the rubble. A coat of concrete dust settled over the street, impeding his vision and burning his eyes.

Through the obfuscating cloud, a tri-clawed hand swept for his head. Ducking at the last second, the kid grimaced as he felt the wind whistle through his hair. _Not good. I've got to get out of this smoke._

He smiled to himself, a crooked expression that lacked any real humor. _An EVO's trying to kill me. How twistedly symbolic__._

_Or maybe it's just sick irony._

Straightening up, he examined his surroundings through his watering eyes. He could see the sun shining, dimply outlining the buildings that lined the street. He was standing in the middle of the road, half stooped as he tried to regain his bearings. Through the dust and debris, he could see a shadow coming closer to him, cutting off his path to the highway.

Ducking low, he darted around the creature and began sprinting for all he was worth. _If I can get into the open, I'll know which way to go…_

Just as he thought he was in the clear, an outstretched limb crashed heavily into his back, knocking him flying into a nearby pile of rubble. He flipped through the air and landed upon the bag of meat on his back, which saved him from sustaining any real damage. Nonetheless, the blow stunned him for a moment. As he lay there, dazed by the hit, he heard weighty footsteps accompanied by heavy, animalistic breathing come closer steadily. He gauged the situation carefully.

_Probably got just one EVO in the vicinity. No bones broken, which is always good. Gonna bruise up like crazy tomorrow, but I'll be fine for now. Meat's safe, so that's a plus point as well. Shirt's probably ruined, which is a pity considering how long I've had it: I've always liked that particular shade of dark green. Of course, I _probably_ have bigger things to be worrying about right now…_

Grimacing, he lifted his head up tentatively: staring right into the gaping maw of a multi-eyed EVO. A foul stench emanated from the beast's mouth as stippled saliva dripped from between viciously serrated teeth. _Not good._ Groping blindly about the rubble for a weapon, any weapon, his fingers closed around a lead pipe.

_Bingo_. Without even thinking about it, he brought his improvised weapon sweeping out in a wide arc, slamming it squarely into one of the creature's eyes.

The EVO took a step back, keening shrilly in pain as it screwed its many eyes up in pain, before glaring malevolently at the boy once more. Tilting its head back, it unleashed a blood-curdling cry that rang throughout the empty streets of the city.

…_great. Was that what I think it was?_

Unfortunately for the lad, it was precisely what he thought it was. Answering shrieks rang out in the clouded distance, and soon shapes began to appear from the smoke, forming a circle around the boy, who had his back pressed to the wall, clutching his pipe for dear life. There were eleven of them, menacing the cornered child.

Swinging the pipe in wild arcs before him, he managed to clear an area before him, defending the sack of meat that he still hung onto. He could tell that he wouldn't be able to hold them back for much longer. _Now what?_

Luckily for him, other ears had heard the cry of the wounded EVO.

_BANG_.

From out of nowhere, a bullet sang through the air, penetrating the skull of the lead EVO. There was a moment of stillness, broken only by the portentous impact of the creature's body falling to the ground.

Abruptly halted, there was suddenly a palpable feeling unease among the ranks of the monsters surrounding the child – with good reason, as it turned out.

A flurry of shots rang out once more, this time from an entirely different direction. Three of the EVOs were taken down by this volley, leaving seven very angry creatures standing there amidst the bodies of their fallen comrades. Turning as one, they charged noisily in the direction of the gunshots, snarling savagely as they attempted to find the mysterious sniper.

The kid sat frozen in position for a moment longer, alone with the corpses of four EVOs that had been alive a few seconds earlier.

"Hey kid. Get up," a gravelly voice muttered to the boy, who only looked up in shock.

_It's that weirdo from the grocery shop, the one with the big gun who warned me about EVOs! _He tensed up. _This calls for desperate measures. Evasive maneuvers…_

Hunter continued talking, keeping his eyes trained on the surroundings for any suspicious movements. "They're gone for now, but they'll be back before long," he said, lowering his gun and turning around, only to find a conspicuous absence of any human beings.

_Where'd he go?_

Catching sight of a rapidly retreating dust cloud in the distance, Hunter scratched his head. "Huh." _That was odd. Why's he running away? Let's see…_

It was a true mystery. A young boy stealing food, unafraid of EVOs, defending raw meat, and looking like he had something to hide…that sounded like – Hunter's eyes widened as his fist clenched on his rifle stock.

_Of course! That's it! It's so obvious!_

_That freak's an EVO!_

The boy made it back to his farm, panting from the sudden sprint. He leaned heavily against the wall, trying to calm his thumping heart. He was bleeding lightly in several places, but couldn't be bothered by such trivial things at the moment. _At least I lost that guy_.

Clutching his sides as his lungs began to cramp, the kid slid his back down the wall until he was sitting on the ground, limbs akimbo. He stayed like that for a good five minutes, waiting for the adrenaline in his system to drain away. He was disturbed, however, by a small noise.

_*click*_

Cracking an eyelid open and glancing through the motes of sunlight filtering through his eyelashes, he caught a glimpse of a bulky figure standing before him. The figure had cocked a gun, and was currently leveling said gun at the kid's face.

_Well, that's just peachy_. "Whaddaya want?"

Hunter's eyes were mere slits behind his ski mask as he kept the gun steady. "What do I want? Hmm, tough question. I want lots of things: a warm meal for one. The head of my sworn enemy, for another. But more than that, I have one goal in my life." The trigger creaked as Hunter's finger tightened.

"I want to wipe out all your filthy kind," he ground out, ready to fire at the slightest suspicious movement.

The kid opened his eyes fully for a moment, then closed them completely. "Now why would you want to wipe out humanity? That's just dumb, not to mention suicidal – unless you're an alien or something, which, obviously, you're not."

Hunter wasn't going to be fooled. "You can't trick me, freak. I know your kind: playing dumb, then stabbing us in the back." _Just like those monster relatives of Rex._

The kid stretched before climbing to his feet, shaking the kinks out of his joints. "Look, pal, I appreciate the save from the EVOs back there. If you were serious about getting that hot meal, I can whip one up in a few shakes. But in return, quit waving the gun around and talking crazy, will ya?"

And with that, the teen strolled into the farmhouse calmly, hands in his pockets. The sound of pots clanging and a stove running followed shortly, along with the scent of something cooking. Hunter just stood there a moment, confused.

_So…he's not an EVO?_ That was unexpected…_but that smell is far from unpleasant_.

He stood undecided for a moment. _Ah, what could it hurt_. And with that, Hunter Cain ducked into the small kitchen. It was sparsely arranged, with many cupboards showing signs of years of disuse. Cobwebs cluttered the far corners of the room, but the counters and sink were spotless and the plates on the table were new. Hunter sat at the wooden table, watching the kid cook with a sureness that spoke of years of experience.

_He's used to cooking for himself._

The silence was broken by the kid himself. "So why'd you care if I was an EVO or not, hey? It's not like I was giving you trauma or anything, so why the sudden urge to kill me?"

Hunter mulled over his response carefully. "I've sworn to kill every EVO on the planet."

There was a sudden break in the cooking noises. It was just for an instant, but Hunter could have sworn that the kid had visibly flinched…and did his arms just start shaking? He couldn't tell from the kid's back, but decided to remain on his guard.

When the kid next spoke, it was with a great deal less vim. "Every EVO, eh? That's…that's nice…"

_Suspicious. _Very_ suspicious. And he says he's not an EVO. Just how stupid does he think I am?_

Suddenly the boy turned around, his face all smiles. He was holding two steaming bowls of broth.

"Here you go! House specialty comin' right up!" He plonked the bowl in front of his guest and sat down opposite, still grinning. "_Bon appetit_!" delivered in a terrible _faux_-French accent, followed by a quick laugh and a mouthful of hot stew.

Behind the mask of boisterous joviality, though, the kid was worried sick. _Every EVO? What if something happens? I've got the food right here, though, so it should be fine… _

Suddenly, something else struck the boy, who imperceptibly turned a shade paler. _Oh no…how'm I going to get rid of the meat? I've got to use it, though…so should I just get it over with quickly? Get it down as soon as possible?_

Abruptly, the boy stood up, flashing an apologetic smile at Hunter. "If you'll excuse me, I have to use the bathroom." And with that, he slung the ever-present meat sack over his shoulder and slouched inconspicuously out of the room.

Hunter followed his every move like a hawk. He hadn't taken a bite of his food. _I don't care what he says, something's fishy about that kid. So, he says he's not an EVO. If that's true, then why was he so rattled when I said that I had to kill all the EVOs on Earth? There was no cause for a reaction that violent: especially not when most humans on the planet share my point of view._

_And what's he doing with all that raw meat?_

Hunter waited a few minutes, but it soon became evident that the boy wasn't coming back anytime soon. Determined to get some answers, he stood up and stalked out quietly, leaving the room empty save for the gently steaming bowl of soup.

The door the kid had gone through opened onto a stairway that led down to a cellar door. _Going to the bathroom, my upper left eyeball. He's up to something, I just know it._

The door at the base of the steps was pretty normal, chipped at the edges with paint flaking off in patches. The doorknob was brass, and creaked as the man slowly turned it and pushed the door open.

The room was completely dark. The faint rectangle of light that emanated from the opening extended a few feet into the gloom before fading away into the patch black beyond.

_Why is it so dark? What's the kid doing?_ Hunter's thoughts were broken by a rustling sound from the shadows at the back of the room.

"Who's there? What's going on?" Hunter groped his way along the wall slowly, keeping every sense sharpened for any more sounds of movement. Just as his roving fingers found the light switch…he heard it.

From the back of the room, there was a quiet rustling noise, followed by an almost inaudible tearing sound. Hunter strained his ears and heard a rhythmic sound just within the range of his hearing. It was soft and regular, interspersed with frequent breaks followed by that tearing sound again. Hunter's eyes widened as he realized what that noise reminded him of. It sounded like…_chewing_.

He flipped the switch almost convulsively. The fluorescent lights began flickering on erratically, illuminating the horrifying scene before him in spasmodic fits and starts.

The first sensation that reached his mind was the red. Red everywhere, crimson patches spattered on the concrete floor, staining the dull grey with a vibrant scarlet that Hunter was all too familiar with. The hue pooled in the center of the room, underneath the strobing lights. With as much experience in the world as he'd had, he knew that there was only one thing that it could possibly be.

_Blood_.

Overpowering as the sight was, Hunter had seen much worse over the course of his crusade. Tearing his eyes from the pooling fluid on the ground, he silently took in the utter monstrosity before him.

There was…_something…_crouched in the middle of the room, back turned to Hunter. The surface of the creature was covered with pustules and growths that were layered on top of each other, a tangled mass of cancerous growths that seemed to feed off of one another. The cauliflower-shaped structures on the creature's back were arranged side-by-side with disgusting patches of dark-purple flesh that quivered and gleamed in the harsh light.

Structures that seemed to be tentacles extended like tree roots from the beast, soaking in the vermillion fluid that they trailed through. Unevenly sized, with some thick and others thin, the mismatched and discolored tendrils lay limply in the fluid, twitching intermittently.

There appeared to be some sort of chain attached to the pulsating mass, leading to a staple driven solidly into the floor. By the chain was a tattered roll of cloth lying in a ragged bundle, flushed with red.

As Hunter watched, repulsed by the nightmarish vision that confronted him now, the creature hunched down lower, as though trying to get away from the sun. It half turned its head in an attempt to see who was responsible for the white light washing through the basement, and Hunter caught a glimpse of its head.

A disgusting mass of bulges and warts, barely identifiable as a face, was angled back at Hunter. The eyes were milky white and sunk deep into the mutated face, staring blindly at the world with a stupidly baffled look. The misshapen mouth was filled grotesquely with blocky teeth that were stained red with blood, with shreds of a stringy material hanging sloppily out from the deformed lips.

The EVO was clutching a ragged chunk of some unidentifiable meat, taking messy bites at intervals while simultaneously trying to shield its eyes. Hunter caught a small glimpse of some dark olive cloth that was caught in the monstrosity's hands, stained red with the raw juices of the hunk of meat it was clutching.

Dark olive…like the kid's shirt…

Hunter saw red – both literally and figuratively. He hadn't seen what had taken place here, but he could figure it out. The kid had gone to the basement. The monster was in the basement. The monster was holding the tattered remains of the boy's shirt, and was chewing on some unidentifiable meat while surrounded by blood.

Hunter was no detective, but even he could work out what had happened here.

Feeling more than a little nauseous, but far more enraged, Hunter turned his eyes from the chunk of mangled flesh that had once been the boy and raised his cannon. He allowed the noxious wrath hidden within to surface. No mercy to _this_ freak, and never mind the memories of ghostly eyes that watched his every move.

Not even dignifying his depraved foe with a final quip, Hunter prepared to kill the beast. His finger tightened on the trigger, micrometers away from releasing the hammer and blowing the fiend away. He pulled…

"Wait!" a young voice shouted hoarsely from the side of the room.

Hunter's eyes reacted faster than his fingers did. Looking into the corner, he saw a rapidly moving body running towards the EVO. His brain slowed the images down and classified the person.

It was the kid (_how is he still alive_) sprinting forward with his shirt shredded on his back (_how did his shirt get shredded_) and pointing at the EVO (_why is he protecting it_) and shouting something while he ran (_what is he saying_) and running and leaping and diving and –

_BANG._

…

…

…

_*thump*_

xxXxx

A/N: Gosh, this is by far the worst cliffhanger I've written so far. And it probably won't be resolved for another three chapters…writer's prerogative!

I'm really wondering now. Should I raise the rating of this story? Was this too much? Was the gore over the top? I personally believe so, but feedback would be nice. On another note, I feel like the identity of the mystery-EVO should be fairly obvious, as I was fairly descriptive about it.

**YellowAngela**: Yes, I actually drew inspiration from "Plague" for this episode – all I needed was Holiday giving herself shocks to make it a blatant ripoff. Thanks for the advice, and the review!

**Etheria4**: I'm glad you liked it, and thank you for reviewing!

**FloatingPizza**: Well, it's good to know that Wodehouse isn't dead! Also, I hope this satiated your desire for some action with Hunter! Thank you for reviewing, as always.

A haiku, because I'm too lazy to do something fancy. Maybe next time…

_Underneath the rain_

_Watching leaves flow down the road_

_My homework can wait_

xxXxx


	17. Weaving Webs

**A/N**: As this chapter no doubt shows, I often wonder about NoFace's mental state and previous history. I probably think about it too much, in retrospect…

Music: iNSaNiTY, Frost Remix. It really sets the mood. In a dark way.

* * *

_Abysus,  
__Three days after the Spark_

Abysus. The mere mention of the name evoked a vastly varied kaleidoscope of emotions from hearer to hearer. To the EVO on the run, the word embodied hope, justice, and a brighter future. To the common man, it represented the unknown, the bogeymen, the monsters of the night. To the soldier, it was the hardest bastion of enemy power in the world, a fortress of darkness.

With such a reputation, it was only to be expected that Van Kleiss' castle was a truly awe-inspiring sight to all who entered within his pseudo-nation. Nothing less would be fitting for one who desired to rule over the world. Although it had been uninhabited for quite some time, the decrepit nature of Abysus did nothing to detract from the underlying Gothic glory, which seeped through every brick in the time-tested walls. An observer, no matter how obtuse he may have happened to be, would have no doubt in determining that the lofty castle was a building of no small importance.

The Throne Room. Set within the crumbling ruins of his lair, the design of Van Kleiss' chamber of state presented an interesting study in contrasts to the casual visitor – the winding path of the footway through the stately entrance hall, the blocky construction stones offset by twisting tree tendrils, the dusky hue of the rock against the vibrant shades of the ubiquitous blossoms – all in all, an effect that seemed carefully calculated to both discomfit and intimidate those who came before he who would be king.

Within this most impressive of throne rooms, Van Kleiss himself was ensconced upon his modulated seat. The stone chair was plain, and the ancient tree that loomed behind it was a true matriarch of the forest; yet, despite the apparent simplicity of the design, there was an inherent feeling of awe that came from standing before the throne; an aura of restrained power that was merely biding its time before choosing the perfect moment to strike.

Upon this singularly majestic throne sat Van Kleiss, head bowed and eyes closed. His unruly hair fell over his eyes as he remained slumped on his portentous seat, seemingly lost in deep meditations upon lofty subjects. His EVO guards gesticulated silently at one another, and retreated quietly from the room, leaving their ruler to his musings in peace. The man had much to think upon, after all.

In truth, Van Kleiss was not pondering serious matters pertaining to the fate of the kingdom of Abysus in an effort to further the reach of his nation. Nor was he contriving to maintain the continued existence of the EVO race as a whole in order to keep himself alive. He wasn't considering the best psychological methods to persuade new recruits that his path of destruction was the only true one available to all EVOs either: Biowulf had _that_ rigmarole down pat. He wasn't even griping about how much he hated Providence and Rex in general – not that he'd ever do anything so puerile, of course.

Van Kleiss was, in point of fact, sleeping.

This, of course, could readily be excused: it had been a tough couple of days, and his rejuvenated body simply couldn't maintain consciousness after such a grueling experience. Even hopped up on nanite power as he was, the fibers of his frame were crying for a bit of rest and he was obliging them clandestinely. Napping peacefully on his ruggedly grandiose throne, he allowed his cells to recuperate from the last week of constant abuse and overuse.

He had remained in this position for several hours, the only one daring to intrude upon his presence being Biowulf. The lieutenant, of course, simply left him alone, glad that his master was finally taking a much-deserved break.

He was disturbed out of a rather fitful dream by the lumbering tread of a large EVO elsewhere in the castle. Rubbing his face with his gauntleted hand, grateful for the cool metal upon his sore eyes, he drowsed for a few moments before coming fully awake. Shaking his head vigorously from side-to-side, he decided that he'd had quite enough rest for the time being. Pushing himself out of his chair, he shoved his exhaustion to the back of his mind as he started moving towards the basements.

As he stalked through the many corners within his base, he was vaguely aware of numerous underlings scurrying out of his way hastily, and took note of the impressive numbers. Biowulf had been busy – the standing army appeared to have tripled, and morale was high among the men. _Still_, he thought to himself as he descended further, _there is much work yet to be done._

Above all, it was paramount that he conduct research upon the nature of EVO-kind as a whole. There were too many unanswered questions about his very own subjects – why did people turn into EVOs? Why did some EVOs retain awareness while others became destroying beasts? And, most importantly, what made an EVO incurable?

As he walked down to the basement levels, he considered these questions carefully. After deciding that there was not enough information to answer them with any degree of certainty, he moved on to analyzing his army's strategic position. He examined Abysus' situation critically, assessing his own powers against those of Providence. Realism was critically important in any fight, and a thorough knowledge of one's own strength was necessary before attempting to combat others. Van Kleiss had been burnt once by his own weakness, and would be sure to never let it happen again.

He had a large EVO army on his hands, but Black Knight's recent purge had demonstrated how easily such a thing could be turned against him. The collars were a problem that Van Kleiss would have to deal with, but there was the distinct possibility that he may have more time than he thought. It was unlikely that White Knight, who's secret weapon was an EVO, would use the collars in actual combat. Rex wouldn't stand for such a thing, and the Knight could scarcely afford to offend his greatest trump card.

Van Kleiss considered his own special abilities – the power to create and command EVOs. It was an impressive power, to be sure, but Rex had proven able to neutralize it without too much effort, as the boy could cure whatever Van Kleiss threw at him. There was only one way the Van Kleiss knew how to counter Rex's healing abilities.

_And once again,_ he thought as he passed through the winding pathways to the laboratory, _I find myself confronted with the issue of incurability. I wonder what research I'll find down here…_

* * *

Van Kleiss tentatively poked his head into the laboratory, wincing slightly until he was certain that the defenses were down completely. Call him paranoid, but the Nanite Project's security had been absolutely first-class.

Granted, he'd just been in there with the Pack, but he was unsure whether or not the security system was online once more. The robot drone guarding this lab had been the only reason he'd never been able to see these files before – it had locked down the room after the Nanite Event, and had summarily terminated anyone who had so much as put a toe inside its range. Van Kleiss was fairly certain that it was defunct at the moment, but he was still mildly wary of such a deadly weapon.

After several moments with no negative effects, he concluded that the device had finally broken. Stepping in completely, he began looking through the computer banks scattered about the area. Although parts of it were sparking brokenly, it was intact for the most part. Sauntering about, he eventually sat down at one of the desks and started going through the files.

A good number of the hard drives had been salvageable, although some of course had been lost through the passage of time. The ones that had survived were locked with the highest level of clearance extant in the defunct Nanite Project, and were completely off-limits to a relatively low-level researcher like Van Kleiss. Even getting access to the computer itself had been a headache, never mind viewing the files contained within.

Van Kleiss furrowed his brow as yet another red popup window informed him that his credentials had been denied yet again. He'd managed to worm his way into the mainframe, but the individual folders were given varying levels of protection, with the _Interdepartmental Memo Backlog_ section receiving the lowest security. Opening it had taken a solid thirty minutes, and had revealed little, as it was mostly meaningless chit-chat between scientists trying to connect their findings. Several, however, were suggestive.

One of the more interesting messages was from none other than old Doctor Rylander, who had been working on nanite programming at the time. The communiqué was mostly desultory, but had some interesting revelations. It read as such:

_Rafael,_

_I recently noticed something peculiar concerning a string of code I've been writing. You remember how certain samples were becoming impossible to work with, like their coding had locked down entirely? We've been discarding such cases as soon as they show up, but I decided to try analyzing one on a whim. What I found was quite curious._

_All of the affected nanites had different coding, but the alignment of certain key functions within the main core was similar. Upon closer examination, it turned out that such an arrangement produces a unique line of code, which I managed to copy. When I inserted this string into the programming of formerly responsive subjects, their data immediately locked down and they stopped responding to our attempts to modify their commands. I believe I've found a firewall of some sort, although it has to be protected, of course._

_I've attached the code, and I'd appreciate if you could analyze it later. Keep it under the most stringent security, and do not allow it to come into contact with healthy samples. Such a code is a hazard by nature, and common prudence dictates keeping it isolated. _

_But enough of business. How is Violetta's pregnancy coming along? Is she still working with young César on that little matter of the security program, or has she finally decided to listen to the doctor and lie down?_

_Your friend,_

_Gabriel_

Despite the apparently mundane nature of the topic under discussion, this message was of extreme significance to Van Kleiss. He naturally deduced that the "firewall" being discussed was, in truth, the key to creating incurable EVOs. This was what he'd been looking for.

Unfortunately, Van Kleiss' current facilities were not up to the task of analyzing nanite coding on the level that Rylander was discussing, so any personal experimentation was out of the question. No, the only he was going to find his answers was by peeling the layers of security away from the computer until he found what he was looking for.

_This could take some time_, Van Kleiss thought as he settled down for a long night of hacking. As an afterthought, he called in Biowulf and asked the wolf to watch over the entrance and make sure nobody disturbed his work.

Cracking his fingers outwards, Van Kleiss turned back to his screen and continued working in the well-lit room, lost to the world as he continued trying to bypass some of the most comprehensive security measures on the planet.

xxXxx

* * *

_The depths of Providence Base,  
__Concurrently_

Locked in the lower confines of Providence, the EVO paced back and forth within the cell constantly, occasionally hurling himself at the walls in a futile effort to break free. He'd slammed the metal caging him in with enough force to shatter the bones of normal men, but the walls had barely even bent. Underneath the plated mask that passed as his face, he roiled and seethed with fury.

It was dark. He was alone in the cell, flailing violently at the impermeable walls. He dashed himself repeatedly onto the reinforced sides, but it was no use.

Only a few minutes ago, the traitor to his kind, the one-who-made-machines, had come in and inflicted more pain upon him. Forcing new voices into his head, causing strands of numbers and forgotten images of agony to flash inside his head, causing his skin to burn as the traitor held him down. His muscles had blazed, his muscles had melted, his mind had crumpled upon itself.

In the end, nothing had changed: the one-who-made-machines had left as suddenly as he had come, having had his fill of pain. Leaving him to his solitude once more, and his torturous imprisonment, they had locked him away. The thought scalded NoFace's mind more than anything else, hazing his senses and driving him into a fury like no other. _I will not be bound!_

To that end, he had been whaling away at the titanium walls without a break for the last couple of hours. The EVO's thoughts ran in infuriated circles as one line kept repeating the same dreaded fact over and over again in his mind.

_The Before…they've left us here…left us…in Pain once more._

At the thought of being boxed in for an eternity once more, rage, unquenchable rage flowed through his veins as he threw himself bodily at the metal walls, infuriated by the captivity that had been imposed upon him yet again. The ignominy of being contained by nothing more than a few sheets of steel was crushing, and the confinement was causing him actual physical pain.

Dimly aware of conflicting thoughts within his own mind, he clutched his head as fragmented faces and disjointed images flew before his eyes, stabbing needles of pain through his brain.

A studious boy, helping his girlfriend find a college even though the planet had just finished one of the most tumultuous periods in history._ I know the world's just flipped upside-down, but that's no excuse to ignore the coming deadlines._

A young blond girl, leaping to his defense. _He's not _just some guy_, he's helping us sort through some of Claire's colleges_.

A smiling Hispanic teen who claimed to be the Savior of the World. _I'm Rex Salazar. Rex to my friends. You can call me Rex, if you want to…_

Images and voices, broken and blurred, sped by as he clawed at his head. Meaningless noises, vestiges of a life that was no longer his. He could _feel_ the indecision within his own mind as a barrier strained, bent, was on the point of bursting, then subsided just as quickly.

It was just like the last time. Their faces wouldn't leave him, haunting his every waking moment. Banishing such sentiments from his mind, he let the memories wash over him; inundating his very soul in his immense anger as the recollections of a time before came back to him, fortifying his shadowy resolve.

* * *

**Flashback **

* * *

_Directly after the First Nanite Event,  
__Kiev, Ukraine_

After the wave of energy that had swept around the world following the Nanite Event, there had been something of a lull. Evan, like many others, had lain on the ground in a state of semi-shock, wondering what on earth had just happened. Several wild scenarios involving bombings and nuclear war whirled about his head, but after a few moments of

The Voice had been the first sign that something was wrong.

A quiet voice, in the back of his mind, telling to _kill_, to _destroy_, to _raze_ _it all_.

He'd had only a few seconds to consider this before the next stage had taken him: The Pain.

Without a warning, he was gripped by wracking convulsions that knocked him to the ground, setting his limbs akimbo as he lay in a twisting heap. His bloodstream was ablaze, and his nerves were firing conflicting messages to him. As he huddled there, he felt his muscles contort and his bones warp as his body forcibly modified itself. His voice went raw as he screamed, a howling cry to a world that had gone mad.

Through eyes that were rapidly growing dim, he could see fellow sufferers writhing about him. Suddenly, without warning, his mind was barraged with a cacophony of sensation as every nanite in the vicinity began talking to him. The fear and despair of those around him swirled like a torrent within his mind, beating endlessly upon the frail rock of his sanity.

Dimly, as though through a haze, he felt rather than saw crowds of people running away from them. He wanted to stop them, to call for help, to do anything that would silence the voices in his mind.

_Where are you going? Don't leave me here, in agony!_

But they hadn't listened, or hadn't heard, and had run away in their panic. Leaving him alone in a dying city.

Soon the only voices he could hear were animalistic sounds, the grunts and howls of beasts that once had been men. His sight was gone, but he could still see. He had no mouth, but he found that he could speak through the very blood of those around him.

For the longest time, The Pain was his only companion in the dark. The Voice whispered to him, insidiously planting thoughts of revenge within his mind, and he slowly fell prey to the coils of darkness eating him from within. He slowly lost what little remained of his sanity, marshalling a massive army for himself as he nursed dreams of breaking out. His personality faded away slowly, lost to the morass of hopelessness he was confronted with.

Locked away from the world, behind the golden Shield, he'd given himself completely to his wrath. Adrift from all that had once made his world worth living, he'd surrendered control to the rage that bubbled and fermented within his heart. A true avenger, he'd continued to exist for the sole purpose of seeing his enemies kneel before him in total subjugation.

Once in a while, on his rambles through the ravaged city, he'd come upon through familiar places – like the Kiev Conservatory. He was oddly attracted to the music halls, and had once come upon a magnificent violin that had remained intact through the wasteland the city had become. He had held the fragile instrument delicately in his clawed hands for a few seconds, dimly recollecting images of flowing notes and swaying motions that grated in his mind, before dashing the violin to the ground in agitation and leaving enraged. Such incidents only served to further his own bafflement, and in turn simply fed his wrath.

He eventually convinced himself, after many tormented nights, that this was the right thing; that being bent upon revenge was the best course of action. They all deserved to die in torment, to be put through the same suffering he'd gone through. The struggling voice in the back of his mind sputtered a bit in protest, but slowly died out.

Because nothing was wrong.

This was normal.

This was what he was.

* * *

**End Flashback **

* * *

Wrestling one's own mind was a trying experience. This new personality had some nerve, even trying to regain motor functions at one point, but NoFace was fairly certain that he'd managed to tame him. Having retaken with place as the head of the body, he promptly cast aside all concerns regarding 'morals' and other such petty things. All who stood in their path would be destroyed.

He immediately quelled the suffocating feeling that was creeping upon him. Despite the innate panic rising at the thought of being entombed in a metal sarcophagus once more, he forced himself to be calm. Soothing his wild thoughts, he restrained himself enough to extend a few feelers into the surrounding area. What he found was by no means comforting.

To exacerbate an already tortuous experience, he could feel his comrades, his brothers in suffering, confined all about him. Other EVOs like him who'd been locked up by Providence unjustly. Just like in the Shield, the nanites in their body whispered continually to him; keeping him continually connected to the torment inflicted upon his brethren by the Before. The influx of sensory data overloaded his mind momentarily, but he soon found that he could distinguish their words.

They cried out for many things. Some cried for freedom, and liberation from the constraining bonds placed upon them. Others cried for relief, the cessation of the confusion that was running through them. Others, however, bayed for revenge, for vengeance upon those who'd dared to lock them away.

They cried out continually to him, and he calmed their brute cries with his own soothing promises of bloody retribution to be wreaked upon those that kept them bound. Grooming his future army in the dark, he bided his time and waited patiently.

Waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and utterly defeat the Before.

He felt a wavering cry from the back of his mind, vainly protesting. It faded almost immediately, quieting down into a corner.

NoFace was hardly surprised, and indeed felt quite at peace with his plans of revenge.

It was what he was, after all.

* * *

**A/N**: NoFace is kind of a tragic character in my mind. If he hadn't been locked away, it's very hard to know exactly what he would have done in the wide world. Created a second EVO kingdom? Searched for a cure? Who knows. But no one deserves imprisonment on the scale he experienced…

Also, in my world, NoFace has a voice in the back of his head, and doesn't think this is weird. I base this off of the fact that he frequently speaks of himself in the plural, saying things like "left _us_ in pain". He continues to do so even when he's not the head of an army, so he must consider himself to be more than one person.

**YellowAngela**: Yes, well, people _had_ been complaining that my writing was too slow, so I decided to err on the side of caution. Thanks for the feedback – us Wodehouse fans have to stick together!

**Etheria4**: Sorry about the cliffie, but thanks for the review!

**FloatingPizza**: Thanks for the opinion: good to know that my OCs don't come off as forced.

_Ode to Villains_

_Oh, Man of Action's "bad guys" dear,  
__Those paragons of villainy.  
__They steal and kill without a care,  
__Yet never show their character._

_There's Biowulf, that scurvy knave,  
__Who's shown himself to be quite brave;  
__And yet insists like quite the fool,  
_'_Pon being a megalomaniac's tool._

_Then Kleiss himself, a pompous brat,  
__With manners suited to a rat;  
__Ambitions blank, his goals are dim,  
__And all we know is "He's bad, mustn't win!"_

_And Gatlocke, who's a dodgy bloke,  
__Ripostes and parries, and cracks his jokes.  
__And only serving his own sheer greed,  
__He lets his avarice take the lead._

_Of course there's Cain, the silent soul,  
__Who takes upon himself the whole  
__Of mankind's fight against EVOs,  
__And speaks his mind through dual barrels._

_From Quarry, Scarecrow, Gharun Set,  
__To Moses, Valve and ZAG-RS;  
__A glut of villains all right here,  
__And yet nobody seems to care…_


	18. Springs Eternal

**A/N**: So, just to clarify, VK's machine keeps nanites active, and reactivated all the old EVOs – essentially 'resetting' the world. Of course, the nanites themselves swapped around, so it's possible that formerly incurable EVOs became curable, and vice-versa. That was what Holiday was so excited about three chapters ago.

* * *

_Southern Limbarbe,  
__8:00 pm, three days after the Spark_

The jump jet glided silently through the evening air as it zoomed towards its destination. Unlike most Providence issue planes, this particular jet was not the usual muted white, but was a darker shade of grey, having been customized years ago by the pilot for stealth and recon missions. Floating over mountains and forests alike, it arrowed ahead as the custom-built engines were pushed to the limits of speed and safety. The ninja at the wheel was pressed for time and was determined to make it before nightfall.

Finally, just as dusk was setting in and the sun was sinking past the horizon, he pulled the throttle to a stop and began coming down. The vehicle realigned its motors jerkily as it slowly descended to the ground. The instant it made contact with the ground, the door in the side opened and Six leaped out. Landing in a crouch, he adjusted his sunglasses as he straightened up, surreptitiously taking a look around. It was impossible to tell if anyone was out there, as the hilly landscape surrounding him could easily have been concealing a small army.

In front of him, just a few hundred meters away, lay the old power plant where he'd gone recently to terminate an energy-producing EVO. The plant still looked new, but it had been abandoned entirely shortly following the Nanite Event, seeing as the former source of energy had slithered off merrily. The structure still remained, however, gates slightly ajar as though inviting passersby to enter. Six supposed that he had no choice but to oblige.

He walked casually into the abandoned power plant, to all appearances seeming very relaxed and carefree. Just your average ninja taking a stroll through a deserted industrial area. Nothing to be alarmed by.

In reality, Six's senses were on high alert as he carefully scanned every inch of his visible surroundings for any hint of his disgruntled comrades-in-arms. Granted, the summons had been relatively friendly, but it was certainly not beyond their non-existent moral code to lure someone into a trap under false friendly pretenses. Indeed, in his part life he'd used all kinds of methods to get his targets where he wanted them: hostages, blackmail, honey traps and sheer chicanery – none of these had been below him at one point, and his comrades had certainly not adopted the same principles that he had over the past years…

…as evinced by the gate clanging shut behind him and the subsequent grating noises that signaled that it had been sealed shut. Apparently, this had been a trap after all. Hardly surprising, really. He'd expected no less.

Darkness enveloped the entire building, broken only by shafts of dim twilight that seeped in through broken holes in the roof. Sounds danced about on the periphery of his range, lurking just out of sight.

Six froze in position, stilling his body as he strained his senses for any discrepancies in the surrounding areas. Quiet sniggers, heavy footsteps and the soft swishing of cloth reached his ears, but the general gloom of the place prevented him from accurately pinning down any enemy locations. He didn't really need to see them, of course – they made their unnecessarily dramatic entrances soon enough.

From the murky light playing near the back of the building, a shadowy figure walked forwards into a slanted shaft from the ceiling. To your average bystander, it would have seemed that the man was smiling benignly – rather like a dapper gentleman offering an aged lady a hand across the street. Six, on the other hand, knew this man quite well (having both fought alongside and been stabbed in the back by him), and could tell that a world of deceit lay hidden behind that face.

"Dos. I was told you had information for me," Six said neutrally, arms at his sides. Although he was sedate on the outside, his fingers were positively itching for the comfort of his blades. Still, might as well find out if the man had any useful things to tell him.

Dos gave his trademark smile, peering at Six craftily through his half-closed eyes. "Ah, Six, _mi compadre_! It has been too long since we saw you among us, old friend!"

From the dark behind Dos, Five walked forward slowly, the silhouette of her guitar evident before her face came into the light. A metal girder high above creaked gently, and Six knew that IV was standing up there. The looming presence he felt behind him was obviously Trey, barring the door and preventing any escape attempts. Apparently they were taking no chances this time.

Back to the front. Dos spread his arms, smiling rather malevolently. "_Far_ too long, no? Especially after our last meeting with you and your young protégé. How's 'saving the world' been going lately?"

Six didn't dignify his teammate's goading with a response, instead repeating himself. "Do you have information for me?"

Five took a step forward, unslinging her guitar from her back. "Ooh, listen to 'im talk, boys! All high 'n mighty, like he didn't cut in on our turf jus' the other month. Right here in this very place, wasn't it?"

Trey sniggered in his Cajun accent from his post by the door. "Tha's right, Five. Righ' here, it were."

From above, IV's voice rasped out impatiently. "Get on with it, Dos."

Dos' face remained unchanged, although he reached up and adjusted his puffed tie a bit before turning to Six. "Your information? Well, I have some news I heard on the grapevine. Nothing concrete, just some idle musings that I happened to find suggestive."

His eyes creased slightly. "And then, as I was considering handing the information to you, the small issue of payment came up. I decided that there was really only one thing that we all wanted from you. I'm sure you could guess what that is, naturally."

With a snap of the fingers, his comrades began circling around Six slowly, leering at him, daring the ninja to make a move. Six's only response was to unfold his swords and hold them loosely them at his sides, allowing Dos to finish his monologue.

"You see, with the confusion the world is in now, it would be easy, far too easy, to arrange a little…accident. It's nothing personal, just settling old scores. Consider this the finest tribute that you could ever give me, _mi amigo_."

Six lowered himself into a crouch, raising his katanas and holding them in a defensive position. There was no laxity in his posture, not even the slightest hint of sloppiness. This was serious, after all.

It was time to see who the best fighter on the planet was.

xxXxx

* * *

_Providence base,  
__Concurrently_

Squid picked up a plastic tray at the cafeteria counter and studied the menu options disinterestedly. The meals on offer were the typical scrapings usually served in the canteen, and the crop that day was an especially vile assortment of poisons under the guise of edible materials.

While he'd had worse to eat while scrounging off of the alleys of Hong Kong, it was a close thing. Had the food here always been this cheap, or was White trying to save money by serving his men distilled garbage? Whatever the case, Squid found himself longing for a good box of traditional _dim sum_ from the gang's favorite restaurant back home. Even some noodles from the crazy stall lady who claimed to serve real monkey meat would have been acceptable at this point.

He eventually decided to just pick up the mashed potatoes and eat them. He'd stomached much worse things in the past when he'd slum it on the backstreets; some lumpy mash wouldn't kill him. It would be good for him to acclimatize himself to the environment of Providence as quickly as possible, and if eating their food helped…_is that a __cockroach__?_

After putting his tray down rather hurriedly and verifying that the mysterious blemish in his meal was nothing more than an especially burnt piece of potato, he disconsolately slid into a nearby seat at an empty table and began mulling over recent events while fiddling with the edges of his tray apathetically. A lot of things had happened over the last few days, and he'd had plenty of time to mull things over. As matters stood, of course, there was one rather pressing event that was weighing heavily on his mind.

_I'm an EVO again._

_I'm…an EVO again._

_I'm an EVO…again._

Despite the generally depressing nature of his thoughts, Squid supposed that he'd gotten off lucky. Some people, like Evan, had turned into raving psychopaths against their own will when the change had struck them, losing any semblance of humanity. Compared to Evan, he considered himself extremely fortunate – at least he still possessed his memories. And his face. Not to mention his faculties of higher reasoning. Very important, those.

He sighed. _Still…_

_After a couple of days of freedom, it's back to the same old routine. I didn't even to try stepping into the city when I was cured, and it looks like I'll never get to do that. Welcome back to the world of shadows and hiding. Now all my face is good for is scaring ladies and giving children nightmares._ Squid had no illusions concerning his own homeliness.

As he sat there, before his plate of untouched food, his lips twitched mirthlessly as a thought struck him.

_And people say that there's pleasure in the familiar._

Suddenly, without warning, someone plopped down into the seat next to him and slung an arm around his neck. He found himself being wrestled into a headlock and struggled rather weakly to escape. His heart wasn't really in it, though: he already knew who was pinning him down.

"Tuck, let me go."

His friend, of course, refused to comply. "Ah, come on, Squid, why the cold shoulder?" he asked while planting a fierce noogie on Squid's head. "I mean, haven't we known each other for the last four years?"

"Unfortunately, we have. More's the pity," Squid bit back cantankerously, upset about this sudden intrusion upon his introspection. _Why can't people just leave me alone?_

Tuck tightened his grip while feigning a hurt attitude. "That was low, man. And here I thought you were better than that."

"Would you cut it out, Tuck? I'm trying to eat here!"

Tuck, course, refused to listen. Not in the mood for one of Tuck's tussles, Squid wriggled out of his friend's grip huffily and turned back to his meal, only to find that his spoon was missing. Twisting even more, he found Cricket on his other side, sampling his food delicately with a cautious attitude. As she took a bite, her face twisted in disgust.

"Eww, this stuff is disgusting! It's so…tasteless! How can you stand to eat this, Squid?"

Annoyance mounting, he snatched his spoon back irritably and turned back to his food, retorting defiantly, "This is delicious! I just can't get enough of it. See?"

With that, he angrily dug into the food in front of him, ignoring the wide-eyed watchers on his flank. Doing his best to pretend that they weren't even present, he (rather ill-advisedly) shoved an enormous spoonful of the glop that was masquerading as mashed potatoes into his mouth and swallowed. Within a few moments, he had realized exactly what he'd done and was gagging desperately and groping about for a cup of water, which Cricket helpfully slid over. He downed the glass in a single toss and leaned his head back, trying to control his suddenly queasy stomach. Tuck laughed out loud at the exquisitely emerald shade of Squid's normally pale green skin.

Finally getting his gag reflex and digestive workings to calm themselves, Squid placed a hand on his forehead wearily, closing his eyes tight. When he finally spoke, it was in a defeated tone of voice, the voice of someone who's on the verge of giving up. "What do you guys want?"

Tuck and Cricket exchanged worried glances. Cricket gently placed a hand on Squid's shoulder.

"We're worried about you, Squid. I mean, you seemed to be taking the news harder than any of us, so we…though you might want to…I dunno, talk, or something."

Squid looked up at Tuck, who involuntarily shifted away slightly. Squid's eyes, normally rather sedate pools of black ink, were wild. "Talk? You wanna _talk_? OK, let's talk. I've lived like a social leper for the past three years because of something I had no control _whatsoever_ over, it turns out that I'm currently homeless, I've just been turned back into an EVO, everyone is secretly looking at me to see when I'll snap, and I'm fed up!"

He flung his arms in the air impassionedly, tentacles twisting in his agitation. "I can't even go into public now! If I stepped out, there'd be a riot almost instantly, along with some radical nutjobs trying to kill me! I'm an animal, an undersea creature now! I'm _subhuman_! I'm alone in this fight, and I have nothing to help me out! Do you understand! _I'm alone again_!"

He collapsed onto the tabletop, shaking with pent-up emotion. He refused to let himself cry, sealing his eyelids shut. The cafeteria remained silent after his outburst, broken only by his heaving breath as he strove to control himself.

Finally, Tuck broke the silence. He said only one word, solemn as it was. "_We_."

Squid looked up blearily. "What?"

Tuck didn't turn his head. "We've lived like social lepers. We're homeless. We're all EVOs again. We're all fed up. We're all subhuman. The three of us are alone in this fight and have nothing to help us out."

Squid could only look at Tuck's serious face, uncomprehending, until Cricket took his hand and spoke up from his other side.

"Don't you see, Squid? You're not alone; we've always been standing beside you. We're all in this together, and we're going to get through this somehow, so don't you _dare_ say that you've got nothing. Even if it's just us against the whole world, we stick together. Can't you see that we're all with you?"

Tuck and Cricket both looked at Squid. Their gazes were both flinty and imploring, but their smiles were welcoming nonetheless. Squid was stunned by their determination, especially considering their current predicament.

_They've always been next to me_.

He opened his mouth slowly, searching for something to say. "I…I'm…I sup–"

But Squid never got to finish his sentence, because just then Circe burst into the cafeteria, panting heavily with her hair a mess. Catching sight of the trio at the table, she staggered her way to them as fast as she could, gesturing excitedly with her arms.

"Have…you guys…heard the…announcement?"

Squid, Tuck and Cricket exchanged looks of mutual confusion, before turning back to Circe and shrugging.

"What announcement?"

Circe opened her mouth to explain, sucking in deep gulps of air, but found herself forestalled by the crackling of the intercom system. Dr. Holiday's voice, which was oddly exuberant for some reason, was shortly projected to every corner of the base as she relayed her orders.

"_All personnel, gather in the main laboratory immediately. I repeat, gather in the main laboratory immediately. Excuses will not be tolerated – drop everything and come!"_

Everyone in the cafeteria paused for a moment, confused by the sudden directive, before getting up and filing out immediately – Providence grunts were nothing if not obedient. The Hong Kong gang remained motionless for a few seconds longer, bewildered by this sudden command. Before they could shift themselves into motion, Holiday's voice came back online, saying:

"_Oh, and would all incurable EVOs hurry it up especially? This concerns you guys most of all."_

Moving as one, the entire Hong Kong gang turned to Circe, questions written over all of their faces.

Circe just smiled and said she'd explain on the way.

* * *

The laboratory was filled to capacity for the second time in the last three days, only this time faces were a good deal grimmer than they'd been last time. The tension in the air was taut and the atmosphere felt as though it was charged with electricity. Fingernails were chewed and

In the middle of this volatile environment, Holiday scurried about, making last minute adjustments and double-checking her equipment. She was being as pessimistic as possible, reminding people that it may not work, cushioning them in case in failed after all.

"Now, don't forget: this is nothing but a hypothesis. We have no guarantee that the nanites have changed, and no means to determine exactly what could happen. In fact, we're essentially shooting in the dark at this point."

Everyone's face sobered a little bit at her words, but there was still a unquenchable glimmer of faith dancing in their eyes. Seeing this, Holiday relented a bit, allowing her naturally hopeful nature to surface through the bleak words she had just given.

"Of course, if this succeeds, you'll be cured for good."

And with that, she turned to her first test subject, who happened to be Circe. The instant the siren EVO heard that there was a chance that she could be cured, she'd leaped to be the first one in line, never mind the consequences. Without a second thought, Circe hopped up onto the table and lay down in the scanner, calming herself as the Doctor hooked up various sensors to monitor the process. Soon, it was time to begin.

She nervously locked eyes with Rex, who just flashed his trademark grin at her before cracking his fingers and closing his eyes. A look of intense concentration on his face, he placed his hands on her stomach and started the process. Spindly aquamarine veins branched from the contact point through her body as an eerie blue light filled the room. The light from the windows was muted, and the air filled with the clicks and whines of nanites.

Rex's face was glowing in the blue light as his nanites poured into Circe's body, causing her to shudder violently as her basic anatomy was forcibly restructured by Rex's programming. The light continued for another half-minute or so as the Hispanic teen scrunched his face intently, focusing intently upon his work.

Standing around the scene and watching with bated breath was pretty much the entire population of Providence – even White was paying active attention, as much as he tried to look nonchalant on his TV screens. Six wasn't there, but all the incurable EVOs with any degree of self-awareness were present. Evan, of course, was absent, as his condition had worsened to the point where he had to be kept restrained, regrettable as that may have been.

But, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the people paying the closest attention to Rex's ministrations were Cricket, Tuck and Squi– Walter. After all, if Holiday's theory was right, and if formerly incurable EVOs could be changed back to human now that their nanites had changed, then it meant that they had another shot at life…again. Hopes were being raised and shattered on a daily basis, it seemed, and no one wanted to take the risk once more.

Still, just because they didn't want to, didn't mean they could stop themselves.

Rex finished his work at last, stumbling backwards with sweat streaming down his face. To the eager eyes of the observers, Circe looked mostly unchanged, and several faces immediately turned downcast. They all waited, though, for a conclusive answer.

Rex wiped his forehead with a sleeve, panting slightly as he flexed his fingers. "That was…different…"

White's head immediately popped up on a screen to his right and began grilling him for details. "Different how? What happened?"

Rex looked down at his hands, steepling his fingers as he thought. "Well, I talked with her nanites, and they seemed to be perfectly normal, but…it was like trying to dam a wave of water – every time I was close to finishing, a leak would show up and the whole thing would fall over. It was almost as if her nanites were being reprogrammed in combat with mine."

White was intrigued. In a bad way. "Reprogrammed, you say? By what?"

"Not sure. When I managed to cure every last line of the programming, I think I broke some kind of uplink. I heard this really creepy voice say _Foreign data stream aborted_, and it suddenly got much easier to finish the job."

Holiday checked her readings and raised her eyebrows, surprised by what the records were saying. "That's right, actually. My instruments report that there was an outside

She paused, deep in thought. _Foreign data stream…_wasn't that what Evan had said before he began turning back into NoFace and had had to be restrained? What could it mean? Was someone deliberately trying to corrupt the nanite's programming? Well, that was impossible – there was nobody alive, not even a government, with the science required to remotely alter the programming of every nanite on the planet. No, there was a pattern here…she just needed more information. Still, they could worry about things like that after the experiment's results were verified.

She hurried forward, holding her scanner before her as she ran a hasty check. "Looks goods…nanite levels read normal…and her jaw alignment has corrected itself…but there's only one way to be sure."

She looked at Circe, who was groaning and struggling to get up. Rex rushed over, helping her sit on the edge of the stretcher while staring imploringly at the Doctor. "What? What is it?"

Holiday smiled a tired smile, despite the gravity of the situation. Rex just never changed, did he. "It's very simple, Rex. If Circe can still create ultrasonic sound waves from her vocal chords, then we'll know whether or not she's been cured for real."

Every eye immediately turned to Circe, who started sweating under the intense looks everyone was sending her. "Umm…like now? I mean, right now?"

"No time like the present."

Turning nervously to face a nearby window, Circe took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Then, opening her mouth, she _screamed _at the pane.

Nobody breathed.

The glass remained intact.

Starting slowly, but then gaining momentum as it traveled across the room, a spontaneous round of applause burst out around the lab as the scientists celebrated this achievement. The Hong Kong gang was especially exuberant, Tuck and Cricket high-fiving each other in their intense excitement. Circe went so far as to kiss her boyfriend on the cheek in front of everyone, and Rex blushed profusely at the various catcalls and wolf whistles sent his way.

Even Squid the Stoic cracked an uncharacteristically large grin at the thought of finally – _finally_ – being cured. The last few days had been a real rollercoaster of emotions: after years of struggling they had been healed, then just days later they'd been turned again for no discernable reason. Now, at last, they could see the light at the end of the tunnel, and there were no strings attached this time. They'd all had their hopes dashed far too many times, and the euphoria of winning at last overwhelmed all other emotions.

Cricket was eager to be the next volunteer, lying on the table before the Doctor could even turn to her. She looked at Rex, who wasted no time in repeating the procedure. For a few moments, the room went silent as the teen focused, then the blue light shone forth once more.

Her transformation was a good deal more obvious, seeing as her leg literally bent itself back into normality under his hands. There was no restraint this time, with Bobo dredging up the remainder of the confetti he'd saved up from the party three days ago and scattering it about profusely. Cricket barely managed to give Rex a quick thank-you smile before she was whisked away into a group hug by her friends. The cheers echoed around the room, reverberating off the cold metal.

Rushing to be the next cured EVO, Tuck uncoiled himself and reappeared on the table, cracking a grin up at his friend. Rex returned the smile, getting to work even before the Doc gave him the go ahead. Within moments, it was finished, and Tuck was dancing with the rest of the gang. Only Squid was left.

Rex was sweating slightly from the exertion, but his smile was unwavering as he looked about the room. He beckoned Squid over enthusiastically, ready to finish it off and complete the Hong Kong quartet. Squid, who was not usually prone to bursts of optimism, was as happy as anyone had seen him be. As soon as he'd gotten onto the table, Rex breathed in deeply and placed his hands on Squid's shoulder.

The air was filled with broken chirps, while the blue light sputtered and faded out.

Nothing changed.

Rex was stunned, but managed to stutter out a reassurance. "W-wait, I'll try again!"

Once more he laid his hands on Squid, and once more the light sparked and died without effect.

The entire room looked at the Doctor, who was studying the readouts on her screen with an increasingly whiter face. Nobody who took a look at her face had any doubt as to what had just happened. Squid's stomach lurched violently, and the room suddenly seemed to be spinning about him.

Imploringly, Rex turned to the Doctor, desperate. "Doc, it's a mistake, right? My nanites are just tired, aren't they? I need a short break first, then we can cure Squid, right?"

Holiday shook her head silently. The words dropped from her mouth like lead bars. "I'm…I'm sorry. His nanites are not responsive."

She looked up apologetically. Squid heard her words through a fog, as though from a great distance away.

"He's incurable."

The silence of the sepulcher fell upon the room, shocked expressions frozen on every face. Squid's eyes slowly panned around the room sightlessly as the blood pounded in his ears. His heart was twisting inside his chest, and there was a bitter tang of copper in his mouth. He caught sight of Circe, Cricket and Tuck staring back at him. Their cured faces failed to register in his memory for a moment.

_Alone_.

Walter smiled crookedly at the speechless audience. "Guess I should start going by Squid again, huh?" That was all he got out before his _faux _bravado evaporated and his face crumpled in on itself; and he buried his head in his hands.

He was proud of himself, though. He didn't allow himself to cry until he made it back to his room, down in the depths of HQ.

* * *

"_Can you hear me?_"

Squid was momentarily surprised by the sudden voice in his head, but he really couldn't bring himself to care very much. It wasn't every day that you had your spirit crushed in such a flagrant fashion as his had been, and he was feeling exceptionally apathetic at the moment. As such, he was quite unconcerned with little voices in his head.

"_I can hear you."_

And far below him, a face smiled behind a mask.

* * *

**A/N**: Some EVOs were unlucky, and turned out to be incurable twice in a row. Which sucks.

Just a note – I may be a few days late updating the next chapter. This is due to unforeseen circumstances (i.e., family trip for one week with no electronics), and thus I wight update in two-and-a-half weeks, rather than the usual two. But (to stave off any incoming death threats), I will certainly be posting a few short stories in the interim – one for Gen Rex, and one for _Steins;Gate_.

Don't ask me why I'm picking on Walter – err, Squid. I don't know either. Maybe because he was the best characterized of the Hong Kong gang? He got a separate episode, y'know (Lost Weekend). Have I ever mentioned how much I hate writing angst?

Quick Question: Is it spelt Squid? Or (as the wiki suggests) Skwydd? Also, is it Cricket or Kricket?

**YellowAngela**: Yup, that's coming up this chapter. Thanks for the continued support!

**FloatingPizza**: Well, the only _real_ major villain I have left is Kleiss (I wiped out Black Knight and Hunter+NoFace aren't a major threat at the moment), so I'm going to have to milk him for all he's worth. At least until the other antagonists arrive…

**Etheria4**: I don't think NoFace is schizophrenic in the classic sense of the word; i.e., he doesn't have multiple personalities, he's just corrupted by the EVO point-of-view – being able to hear nanites, he's in tune with the rage of his fellow EVOs, and so that becomes a driving force behind his actions. If that makes sense. Which it may not have.

After this chapter, I needed a laugh, so I whipped up the following list of laws in the Generator Rex Universe (in lieu of a poem). And yes, I tapped Asimov for the first three. So sue me.

* * *

**EXTRAS**

1\. **First Law of Heroics**: A human may not injure a civilian or, through inaction, allow a civilian to come to harm. No matter which dimension you come from, saving innocents is paramount.

2\. **Second Law of Heroics**: A hero must obey the orders given to it– him, I meant him – by his superiors, except where such orders would conflict with his Moral Code. Basically, a hero never follows orders, and all his superiors are amoral blockheads.

3\. **Third Law of Heroics**: A hero must protect himself as long as such protection does not result in the First and Second Laws of Heroics being broken. This, of course, precludes stupid stunts and daredevil exercises, such as riding through the mouth of a crocodile.

4\. **Theory of Unnatural Selection**: In the eventuality that a catastrophic event smites a group of protagonists, only such characters as are unimportant to the plot will be permanently disabled.

5\. **Fourteenth Law of Intravenous Gravity**: Nanites within the bloodstream are weightless; giant fists created by said nanites can drag a man down in water.

6\. **Principle of the Fatal Veil**: All characters wearing masks are mere extras, and are therefore disposable minions.

7\. **Concept of Wilhelm's Descendants**: In order to be successfully inducted into the Providence army, it is necessary to be able to perfectly mimic the Wilhelm Scream. This is non-negotiable.

8\. **Mandate of Protagonistical Immortality**: In the event that the hero or one of his comrades is grievously wounded to the point of death, he will indubitably make a reappearance in later episodes in a varied state of body, such as in a green fluorescent tube.

_** Corollary of the Mandate of Protagonistical Immortality**_: This protection can be extended to certain villains who possess more than one dimension in terms of personality.

9\. **Law of Convenient Conservation of Mass**: When necessary, nanites identified as 'special' by the dialogue and their unique blue coloring can defy the laws of physics and produce nanites with no raw materials whatsoever.

10\. **Fermut's Theorem of Base Power**: Energy behind a heroic attack = (rage of hero x season number)/(number of times villain has been defeated + villain's knowledge of hero's unknown background)

11.** Third Rule of the Space-Time Continuum**: The fabric of space-time is completely oblique in all circumstances, no matter what. Unless one possesses a mysterious rotating portal of some kind. In that case, all bets are off concerning time-travel and teleportation. Them portal-things are _freaky_.

12\. **Hypothesis of Gender-Biased Villainy**: If the antagonist is revealed to be of the feminine persuasion, it is almost guaranteed that she will execute a change of heart concerning the hero at some point in time.

13\. **Technique of Panicked Creativity**: The odds of a protagonist developing a new weapon to use upon his foes increases exponentially along with the danger of loved ones, personal danger, threat to innocents, and/or hunger.


	19. Change of Plans

**A/N**: I appear to be one day behind schedule, for which I apologize. Enjoy!

* * *

_Around three days after the Spark,  
__An abandoned farmhouse outside the city_

Hunter had seen countless reactions to his work on the faces of people he rescued from EVOs – shock, disbelief, numbness, grief, rage, acceptance, fear. Some people would clutch their loved ones near and hang on tight through the ordeal. Others would simply faint away at the stress of it all. Some of them, children mostly, displayed no terror at all, and indeed would shoot him quizzical glances as he protected them.

However, no matter what their instant reaction upon being attacked by an EVO was, they generally had some measure of gratitude in their eyes. A twinkling of salvation, relief that their desperate prayers had been heard and a savior had been sent. They would come to him later, as well, and thank him for being there to save them.

These people were the reason that, when asked, he could straight-facedly claim that he was helping.

Although some labeled him as 'evil', claiming that his quest for vengeance was excessive and unfulfilling, he took pride in his work. Contracting his services out in order to eradicate the accursed pests that EVOs were, he truly believed that his quest was morally sanctioned, and was prepared to break every rule in the ethical handbook if it got him closer to his divinely appointed goal. His final end was clear – enable people to defend themselves from the monsters, and eradicate said monsters himself.

He was proud of it.

He'd lived according to his personal creed, and he'd never once faltered – neither in his heart nor in his mission. He was perfectly willing to give his own life up if he could just finish his quest. Pressing unfailingly and unflinchingly forward, he took every blow that fate handed him on the chin and continued to perform all kinds of skullduggery in order to attain his ultimate prize. With a dedication that could only be called obsession, he was fully prepared to abandon all trappings of morality as he fought tooth-and-nail against this worldwide menace.

He would shoot an EVO in a heartbeat if the opportunity presented itself, regardless of age or culpability. He'd long ago shed any illusions he may have harbored regarding the innocence of young EVOs – indeed, sometimes it was the younger ones who were the worst freaks. No, the outside of a beast was no standard to judge it by; they all had to be destroyed.

Be that as it may, he was not a total maniac. He had standards.

For instance, he disliked involving innocents in his battles. He was OK with sacrificing his own men in the course of a battle, as that was the way of war, but he tried to avoid cutting down bystanders. Indeed, he often went to great lengths to protect civilians.

Carrying on from that, he preferred to avoid fighting humans whenever possible. Even if they stood in his path, his own species was always significantly harder to fight than the mutated freaks who masqueraded as normal under superficial illusions of humanity. He could slay an EVO with a human face any day without so much as a second thought, but killing the real deal was always tougher.

No matter what depths he plumbed in his lifelong journey to purify the planet; no matter how depravities he committed during his search for ultimate vengeance; he remained bound by the lingering specter of his conscience, which he would assuage by murmuring the same platitude over and over. This one mantra would slake his memories in the quiet hours, when memories of old came to haunt him.

He'd dedicated his life to protecting the innocent. He'd never let a single bystander come to harm. He was doing everything he could.

* * *

The room was cramped, with little but the bare necessities lining the thinly boarded walls. The wallpaper, originally a yellow floral design, was peeling in several places, and the mold patched onto the roof spoke of constant water seepage. Cracked windows with cardboard covering especially large gaps spoke of the poor care. The floor creaked in protest as Hunter shifted his weight upon the rickety chair he had ensconced himself in, and clouds of dust rose lazily as he moved his booted feet.

_What a dump_.

While unnecessarily blunt, Hunter's assessment was quite accurate. Even if the decrepit atmosphere inundating the room itself (what with the broken windows, mildewing walls and peeling paper) weren't enough of a clue, the house was falling apart at the seams. The musty air and layers of dust were giveaways, but the cumulative effect was patently obvious, leading to only one conclusion:

Nobody had been living in this house for a long time.

While Hunter could have conjured up countless explanations for why the boy had been living here, none of them made sense. Had the boy been cycling through houses looking for a base, like a true pack rat, and picked this one at random? If so, then why was there fresh food stocked up in the kitchen? And if the boy had been living here for some time, then why didn't the house show any signs of it? And, above all – why was there an EVO chained up in the basement? It just didn't add up.

_What does it matter? The kid protected an EVO! He should be dead!_

Taking his mind off of such shaky topics, Hunter continued his examination of the room.

The only things within it that appeared to have been used within the last several years were essentially what Hunter had disturbed himself, as well as a few personal items that had been strewn upon the mantelpiece by someone else fairly recently. A few family pictures, the like. Hunter took note of them and marked them for later examination.

The bed was the only piece of furniture that showed signs of regular use – indeed, the contrast between the cot and the rest of the room was striking. The pristine white blankets still hung onto that pleasantly indescribable scent of recently washed cloth; while the cheap plywood of the bed's structure itself was warped and aged. There were footprint tracks scattered throughout the heavy dust within the room, notably about the aforementioned immaculate bed.

Of course, the formerly white blankets were stained with specks of crimson now, and the dust was speckled with an uneven trail of blood.

Hunter turned his pensive gaze to the figure that was currently occupying said marred sheets. Lying composedly upon the thin mattress, the boy's breaths were even and deep. His heavily bandaged chest rose and fell gently with each breath he took, completely oblivious to the world about him.

When Hunter had torn the curtains up neatly, he'd allowed a small amount of light to dribble in through the grimy windows, although he left the shades down. He'd boiled the shredded curtains on the stove while poking about for some medicine. After finding some iodine that didn't look _too_ old, he sterilized the kid's shoulder thoroughly before wrapping the wound tightly with the strips of cloth. He'd then sat back, moderately satisfied with his work.

Other than the light from the windows, the place may as well have been a moratorium. Bored with the lack of…well…_anything_, Hunter started poking about a bit.

_Why am I still here?_

To be honest, he couldn't answer the question himself. He supposed that half of the problem was the person lying on the bed in front of him.

When the kid had taken the bullet meant for the EVO, Hunter hadn't really known how to react. It had been so long since anything that he'd shot hadn't been actively trying to kill him, he had almost forgotten that his gun could harm humans as well. The fact that the boy had gone unconscious after being shot hardly helped, as Hunter was first worried that he was dead.

Eventually, he'd managed to hoist the child up the stairs and into what appeared to be a bedroom. He'd extracted the bullet almost immediately, and had momentarily wondered whether or not he should take care of the boy's injuries. Eventually he'd come to a conclusion and had torn down the curtains.

Hunter looked down at the sleeping boy lying there, wrapped in fabric. His heavily bandaged upper body contrasted sharply against his dark black hair, the two shades in a dichotomous struggle.

The spotty light that filtered through the slats of the drawn shades played over the boy's face interestingly. While Hunter's neck and face was angled surreptitiously away from the light, shying away from its radiance almost instinctively; the boy's features were illuminated by the almost seraphic glow coming from the diffused light.

Hunter, of course, wasn't interested in such optical illusions, but was puzzling out the chain of events in his own mind. He still didn't understand the specifics of the accident, and frankly had no interest in playing the part of the Good Samaritan. He'd taken care of the kid because of the meal that had been offered to him (the soup, although cooled considerably, had tasted quite good), as well as the inherent responsibility attached to shooting an innocent child in the shoulder. Now that had been taken care of, however, his conscience should have been sated.

_Besides, it's not like this kid's anything special. He threw himself in front of one of those monsters – that makes him nothing more than a good-for-nothing EVO-lover! He's one of _them_! I'd be perfectly justified if I just walked out right now and left him to the whims of fate!_

_So…why am I still here?_

Suddenly curious, Hunter picked up one of the picture frames lying around. The brass outline was burnished brightly, as though it had been polished that very day. The glass was spotless, and reflected specks of sunlight spangled into Hunter's eyes as he squinted to make out the details.

It was a simple enough picture. Two people. One was young. The boy, obviously – smiling almost inhumanly large, creased eyes looking right into the camera as his arms slung around the man next to him. They looked to be at some kind of bunker.

The man was older, probably the father. Dressed in a Providence uniform with a serious look on his face. Blond hair, square jaw. His eyes were shifty, but his mouth was curved upwards lightly. He had a distant look about him, as though he was getting ready to say goodbye. There was a Providence jet hovering behind the two, almost prepped for takeoff.

Hunter was prevented from making any further observations by the boy himself, who began stirring and groaning quietly as he shifted about on the bed. Moving quietly, Hunter stepped back softly and watched as the kid slowly dragged himself upright, clutching his wounded side all the while. His face was curiously unguarded, as though he wasn't fully awake. His first words were halting, blocked by a dry throat.

"W-wa…wat…er…"

* * *

After a brief moment of hesitation, Hunter quickly passed the recently awakened boy a glass of water, which he eagerly gulped down, sighing as he moistened his parched mouth. As he drank, his features sharpened as the water got his mind working. Eventually he put the cup down and tried again.

"What happened? Why am I in bed? What are you doing?" Evidently, the kid was as garrulous as ever. Hunter decided to be a simple as possible with his answers.

"You were unconscious."

Eye roll. "I get that. I mean _why_?"

Easy answer. "You got shot."

"By that?" The kid looked none-too-subtly at the gun next to Hunter and gestured to it.

Glancing down, Hunter hefted his cannon gently before slinging it up onto his back, getting up from his antiquated seat with a tremendous amount of creaking and popping. "That's right." Moving to the door, he was almost out when a final question came to him:

"How long will this keep me down?" the boy asked, obviously wondering when he could be up and moving again. Hunter pondered his reply.

"Around a month, if you keep the pressure off of it." Pause. "Good luck."

And with that final sentence, Hunter turned from the invalid in bed and made his way from the room. He retraced his steps back to the basement almost instinctively, following the scarlet line of red on the floor back to its origin point. His moral obligation had been satisfied at last; he could wrap up the loose ends now.

_Might as well take care of the freak, then I can take off. The kid's fine, he'll be alright_. In his own mind, Hunter was already at a phone booth, dialing up his contacts and getting ready to start the war again. He drew up plans of regimentation and schemes of organization mentally. He'd wasted too much time here. He was ready to get back in the game.

Before he had taken more than three steps on his way out, however, he felt something brush by him. Looking down, he saw the boy staggering briskly towards the kitchen, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that he'd just woken up and had been told to stay in bed. He was leaning on the wall with one hand, and was using the other to clutch his wound. Hunter was mildly intrigued by his actions – that wound should have kept him down all day – and not a little annoyed. He'd gone through all the trouble of patching that cut up, and now the brat was trying to undo all his work.

_What does he think he's doing?_

"If you want that wound to heal cleanly, you'll stay in bed awhile longer."

The kid continued on his way unsteadily, acting for all the world as though Hunter hadn't spoken. He was muttering under his breath, spitting out numbers as he spoke: "Let's see…need five cans a day…three pounds…per meal…lots of beef…"

Curiosity piqued by the boy's insistent determination, Hunter decided to let this play out a little while longer. Following his unsteady footsteps led to the cupboard, where the kid had opened a shelf and was scrutinizing the contents. He then proceeded to scoop up a large number of metal cans and other goods in his arms, before carrying them outside. There was a loud clattering sound, following which the boy came back inside and grabbed another armful. This repeated itself several times, until the cupboard was entirely bare of food.

Hunter watched all this with a vaguely indulgent air, not really caring what the boy did but still mildly interested. His attitude, however, changed rather rapidly when he noticed where the kid was going to next.

He was headed to the basement.

"Why are you going down _there_?" Hunter half-questioned, half-challenged as the boy stumbled down the stairs. Once again, the kid ignored him and kept going, opening the door and sliding in carefully. Hunter followed hastily – he had yet to kill the EVO down there, and was worried that history was about to repeat itself. He needn't have bothered, however.

Inside the basement, the kid was unconcernedly gathering the leftover meat that the beast had yet to consume, and was stuffing it all into the tattered remains of his burlap sack. He never strayed too close to the monster, aware now of the tight perimeter established by the freak's chained collar, and stayed outside attack range studiously. He made a pile of all the shredded leftovers, and tossed them to the creature.

_He's a quick study, but what is he doing?_

Lured by the offer of free meat, the monstrosity pounced onto the pile and began messily devouring it, sending scraps and gobbets flying. The kid, taking advantage of its gluttonous distraction, scurried behind it and began messing with the chain's base. The creature, absorbed in its meal, paid him no heed. Hunter watched with revulsion as it gorged itself.

_Might as well finish things now._

Raising his cannon, he prepared to finish the miserable beast's existence. His gun clicked as he cocked it, drawing the attention of the monster in front of him. It looked up, meat fragments dribbling from its mouth, and stared straight down the barrel of his cannon.

Hunter tightened his finger on the trigger, ready to kill the mutant and move on with life.

The kid, who had looked up from whatever it was he was doing to the chain, realized what was going on and started moving.

Hunter took one last look at the creature's disgusting face, recoiling internally at the brute stupidity of its expression. He breathed in, ready to take the shot–

–and then his view was filled by a very angry teenager's face.

"Ex_cuse_ me? Exactly _what_ do you think you're doing!" the boy asked loudly, not quite shouting. Yet. He was standing just outside the monster's reach, at the very edge of the perimeter of motion afforded to it by the chain. The beast, completely unaware of how narrowly it had just escaped, groped vainly to try and snag the kid's shirt.

Hunter hoisted his gun onto his shoulder and studied the boy for a moment. He seemed genuinely angry at Hunter for some reason, and wasn't at all intimidated by the fact he'd just jumped into the line of fire. Again.

"Stand aside, kid. I'm going to kill this thing, then I'll leave." Hunter's patience was wearing thin – he had things to be doing, after all.

The kid, however, wasn't impressed in the slightest, and began trying to placate Hunter. His palms were upturned, as though he were talking to a dangerous animal.

"Believe you me, I would _love_ to be the one pointing a gun in that scumbag's face. Unfortunately, I've gotta get to Providence and cure 'that thing'. Just…calm down, and put the gun away, mister. Okay?" Hunter wasn't backing out of this, though – especially not after hearing the accursed 'C-word'.

"No! You can't _cure_ EVOs; they're an infection – a plague! Stand aside and let me shoot this monster!" The overflow of wrath that he had bottled up came to the forefront now, baying for the blood of the freak behind the boy. He had to kill it. He _needed_ to kill it. Why wasn't the kid moving?

"Move!" he yelled once more.

"No!" The boy's face was suddenly grim and set. He stared right back at Hunter, matching his glare evenly.

Lowering his gun in one swift motion, Hunter leveled in the kid's face. "Get out of the way!"

The boy spread his arms defiantly, as though daring Hunter to fire.

"No."

Hunter's hands shook – something that hadn't happened in years.

"I'll shoot!" he shouted, shifting the gun higher. He fired a warning shot past the kid's ears, sending the bullet whistling into the concrete wall. The shockwave shook the roof, making the lights blink and sending down a light dusting of grey powder.

The boy flinched as the shot went by him, but stood resolute, arms stretched out. He said nothing in response; just looked back at Hunter. His eyes were sullen, like the embers of a fire, but Hunter could see the flame lying hidden within.

The blood was pounding in his ears as every neuron he possessed screamed for him to shove the obstacle out of the way then kill the freak. Yet even as he prepared to move, he caught sight of the boy's bandaged side. Thoughts flickered through his mind, memories of brown eyes and desperate cries and keening wails louder than human comprehension. His tendons quivered as he fought with himself, arms shaking at the internal conflict roiling within.

At last, he lowered his gun, unable to comprehend why this boy would risk his life so fearlessly to defend an EVO. Lifting his head, he asked:

"Why? Why won't you move?"

The boy's lips quirked in a shadow of a smile as he turned to survey the monster behind him. There was a shadow of loss, of emotion beyond the boy's age. His face was twisted wryly, and his eyes burned darkly with both love and hate. His voice, when he spoke, was carefully neutral.

"You see, as useless, pathetic, and half-hearted as he's been all my life…I can't let you kill that EVO."

The kid took a steadying breath, then let it out slowly.

"That's…my dad."

* * *

**A/N**: I'm basing my pseudo-professional conclusion that Hunter dislikes hurting humans off of the fact that one of his mottos seems to be enabling people to defend themselves (handing out weapons, etc.). Of course, there was the time that he attacked Rex's family (humans and EVOs), but he did give everyone in the building a warning and a deadline to get out of the firing zone. Given that he has an almost psychotic hatred of people who associate with EVOs, I'm impressed he gave them any notice at all.

Any guesses as to who the kid's dad actually is? He's actually a canon character, so it should be obvious. For the record, although Hunter sees the boy as a 'child', 'kid', or 'brat', he's actually around 16 years old.

I'm also considering not giving the boy a name, in the style of The Kid, the main character from Bastion.

**YellowAngela**: Thanks for the review! I think that anyone familiar with Six knows what his former comrades are about to face (I almost feel bad for them). True, Squid was picked out due to his emo-ness.

**Etheria4**: Glad you liked them, and thanks for reviewing! Always makes my day to see those notifications pop up.

And now, tradition demands to be satisfied. What slaves we are…

"_Hey author," cries primate BoBo,  
_"_Just mention me: I exist as well!"  
_"_Oh dear", saith I, "But don't you know?"  
_"_If y'ain't part-bad, your tale's not mine to tell!"_

xxXxx


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